


House of Gold

by compo67



Series: Photo-Op Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Bottom Jared, Complete, Consensual Kink, Conventions, Engagement, Established Relationship, Fame, Firefly References, Homophobia, Jared in Panties, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Moving In Together, Older Jensen, Schmoop, Sequel, Sex Toys, Small Towns, Top Jensen Ackles, Twink Jared, Young Jared Padalecki, celebrity jensen, fan jared, hipster jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 62
Words: 102,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to "They Met at the Photo-Op Booth." Small-town book clerk Jared Padalecki is engaged to Hollywood actor Jensen Ackles. Life is much more complicated than planning their wedding and keeping up with each other. Telling their families, moving in together, dealing with the press, and figuring out what they want individually and as a couple--can they handle it? Lacey things and guitar strings will tell. [Complete.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel! Make sure you've read They Met at the Photo-Op Booth!

 

“Jen, what kind of wedding do you want?”

“Uhhhmmmmm…”

“You are so fucked out.”

“Uh huuuuh.”

“So you _don’t_ wanna go another round?”

“I… guh.”

“Are you trying to will your cock to move?”

“May…be…”

“It’s not moving.”

“Jus’… give it… a sec…”

“Your eyes are crossed! Quit doing that… Jensen! You’re gonna freeze like that! Stop it! 911, Jensen Ackles got his eyes permanently crossed from staring at his limp dick!”

 

They don’t talk about a wedding after all, because Jared is too busy squirming and rolling around in Jensen’s bed, laughing and snorting into pillows and blankets. But that’s okay. It’s been two days since the boat and the Twitter photographs and they have only left Jensen’s bed to eat and swim in the pool. The weather has been beautiful, Jared was given a week off of work as an engagement present, and his mother shouted in joy over the phone when he told her he said yes—she hollered so loud half of Texas heard it.

And just a few hours ago Jared gave Jensen his present for Christmas, no matter if it was a few days late.

That’s the reason Jensen couldn’t speak for a while.

Jared remembered to lace up.

 

In a simple but elegant dark blue photo album, Jared placed portraits of himself.

He took a photography class in high school and it was one of his favorites. He enjoys taking pictures of anything and everything. His photo reel on his phone has exploded within the last two days; he can’t stop taking pictures of Jensen. From asleep, conked out Jensen to scruffy morning Jensen, to cooking on the grill Jensen, to getting out of the pool looking fine Jensen—Jared hoards them like a dragon with a pile of gold. Unfortunately, he only has the camera on his phone to work with but it was good enough for his Christmas present. Using the self-timer app, Jared set up his camera in the garage, which became his studio. For a week he worked on the garage—clearing it out, painting one of the walls pure white, setting up lighting, testing shots and angles—until he had everything absolutely perfect. The outfit was easy; getting the timing right was the difficult part. It all kept his days busy.

Somewhere out there in the universe are all the deleted photos that were blurry, off center, and just plain odd. For two days he blasted music in the garage, screeching at his poor mother not to enter the garage. She nearly killed him but it was worth it.

Jared is handy on Photoshop because he dabbles in everything and okay, before he started dating Jensen he would touch up pictures of Jensen and make collages in a totally not creepy way. He has yet to admit this to Jensen and intends to keep it that way or risk forever being mocked for being such a fanboy.

When he chose ten pictures, Jared used Photoshop to fade the backgrounds and make the lines of his body sharper. For three of the pictures, he intentionally moved while the camera was focusing, so they are blurry action shots of him twisting and stretching in ways that show off the length of his body. He took his time with each photo, treating it as both an individual in a set and part of a larger collection; the contrast was upped on several and the pictures were all switched to black and white. Well, almost everything was switched to black and white.

Jared left one thing in color: the rosy pink of the four, delicate satin garters.

Garters that connect from ruffled, white, boy short panties—which accent the curve of his ass and the cut of his hip bones—to elegant, black, lace stockings.

They were beautiful finds in Austin with just the right amount of feminine and masculine meshed together. His cock hung heavy and proud in the boy shorts and the stockings showed off his thighs, accentuating his ass. He had heels on in two of the pictures but since he didn’t much care for wearing them, the rest are barefoot, his toes covered in lacy black. All he needed the heels for were two shots of him leaning forward—his legs and ass presented for the camera.

Jared’s still wearing the stockings but he isn’t sure where the panties and garters went. He’s sure Jensen knows. It doesn't much matter at the moment.

 

They’re busy.

Busy in their home.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen tries to convince Jared to accompany him to a publicity gig in Miami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh! i totally didn't mean to update this but inspiration struck with the puns and i just couldn't resist. regular updates with this will start next week. :D until then, here is a snippet. 
> 
> i have so many things planned for this fic. /happy sigh/
> 
> thank you for reading! <3

There is only one professional event Jensen has to attend in Miami to promote the new film. It involves a small press conference with his costars, the director, and the producers. He has a few lines that were given to him to work in—standard industry small talk and promotion—but his job is mostly to show up and smile. A car is coming around at seven to pick him up, take him there, and bring him back. It all seems easy enough but Jensen doesn’t want to leave the house. He states this fact the entire time they prepare ice buckets packed with longnecks and limes to take out to the hammock.

Four days into their week—on a Friday night—Jensen certainly looks like he hasn’t and has no plans to leave the house. His beard has grown in, no longer scratchy but fluffy and gingery. Jared can’t stop touching it or rubbing his own smooth face against it every chance he gets.

It’s near four and they are halfway through the two buckets. Jensen set music on his phone that plays from a pouch at the top of the hammock; it’s all guitar music, relaxing and familiar to them both. “Come with me,” Jensen groans into Jared’s shoulder as Jared reaches for another beer to share.

Because Jared is a mature person, he laughs at the statement. “You’ve been saying that for very different reasons in very different situations lately,” he snickers and prepares the beer like Jensen showed him a few nights ago; squeeze of lime, dunk it in, sprinkle of salt. It’s cold and crisp and delicious. He passes it back to Jensen, who seals his lips around it and takes a long pull, finishing half of it in one go like a true Texan. He bumps his nose against Jared’s neck and places a kiss there.

They are both much tanner than they arrived from spending a lot of time outside in the backyard. On several occasions Jared has been very grateful for the privacy provided by the palm trees. Today is a little cooler, so they brought out a clean sheet and draped it over themselves. A breeze flits past and Jensen sighs, his hand on Jared’s stomach as they lay chest to back. “C’mon Jay, there will be free food.”

“You can’t buy me out with free food all the time, Jensen.” He takes the last pull of beer and tosses the bottle of the edge of the bright red, low swinging hammock.

“But most of the time I can,” the older man whines.

“Uh, there’s plenty of free food here.” Jared opens his eyes and turns to look at Jensen, who is naked save for a pair of very ratty boxers. “Don’t go,” he says in his most cheerful tone, “I’ll ride your dick instead.”

With a laugh, Jensen rocks the hammock. They’re situated comfortably, with some empty bottles of beer on the grass and limes scattered everywhere. The salt shaker is somewhere; it’s tiny and in the shape of a Nazgul. It was part of the other Christmas presents Jensen got for Jared, amongst them a really nice digital camera and some blank handmade journals he picked up from a tiny store in Vancouver. The rest of his non-sexual gifts for Jensen included a pair of thick gloves, a fancy scarf, a locator for his keys, and refills for his intimidating espresso machine in the kitchen that Jared doesn’t touch.

Jensen also sent things over to Sherri, beyond the George Clooney picture, and she called in tears when she received them the day after Christmas. There was an undisclosed amount of money donated to Sherri’s church and the local hospital, plus a weekend get-away for her and a guest at a spa Jared had never heard of outside of Dallas. To put it simply: it was a very good Christmas.

Currently though, Jensen rolls over Jared’s waist, hanging there without a care. He looks at Jared and smiles, his tongue peeking out. “There was a time when you were too shy to touch me, now look at you. You sure got cocky fast.”

“Either you stop now or I’m going back home.”

“Have you ever had sex while camping?” Jensen asks, grinning ridiculously, waiting for Jared to bite. When he doesn’t, Jensen doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s intents!”

“I said stop!”

“Hey Jay, what do you call a cow that has sex with other cows of the same sex? Ho-moo-sexual!”

“If I say I’ll go with you, will you stop?! You’re hurting me, Jen! Physically causing me harm!” Jared wiggles underneath Jensen, trying to climb out of the hammock and escape. Jensen just causes his body to become dead weight, crushing at least all of Jared’s ribs.

At this rate, the hammock deserves a gold star for not ripping and dumping their sorry asses on the ground. Being the five year old that he is, Jensen manages to kneel in the hammock, swaying precariously over Jared, cackling as he messes up Jared’s hair. “Hey Jay! I was reading a book about gravity the other day. I couldn’t put it down!”

“I’ll go! Fuck you! I’ll go!” Jared screeches and shoves Jensen off the hammock, knocking him on his ass amongst beer bottles.

Jensen grunts and Jared peeks out over the side, worrying that he hurt Jensen on accident. All he sees is the older man reaching for something on the ground underneath him. “Uh oh,” he announces and holds up a broken Nazgul. “My perky ass broke your gift.”

When he is sure that Jensen isn’t fatally injured, Jared lays back in the hammock, spreading out now that he has it all to himself. “Your slightly perky ass will buy me a new one,” he quips back, closing his eyes.

 

The neighbors hear a scream two seconds later, when Jensen kicks the underside of the hammock and flips Jared off of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared watches Jensen get ready for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last update for today! not too bad, i got 3/4 series updated. :D 
> 
> so happy to be continuing this. next chapter is about Jared's ring and where it comes from. and lots of social awkwardness. XD 
> 
> thanks for keeping up with this!

Jared could nearly cry.

The sight of Jensen dressed up and ready to go out for a press conference is just… He’s almost afraid to touch Jensen and somehow ruin his _look_. When Jensen slips on sunglasses as they step outside for the limo, Jared throws his hands up in the air. He’s done. He can’t. Dear Lord, forgive him for being so weak before beauty.

Watching Jensen get ready was a sight in itself. It was like a reverse strip tease. Jared had never known that watching a man—especially this particular man—could be something so intimate and sensual. Okay, so he’s getting a little romantic about everything but how could anyone have a normal reaction to the sight of Jensen in his gray Armani boxer briefs, standing in front of his walk-in closet, trying to decide if he wants to wear a cream colored or dark blue suit. At Jared’s suggestion—where he had to basically wipe the drool off his lip—the cream colored suit was chosen and brought forth. While it looked simple, the quality of it was apparent. Hand stitching in the lapels, a modern, athletic fit, it was Jensen’s style through and through: classic but with a modern update.

He wore an undershirt and a lightweight, off-white shirt, and then asked Jared to pick out a tie.

“Jay, it’s been ten minutes,” Jensen had called out from his bedroom. “It’s a fuckin’ tie.”

Clutching to his two favorites out of a pile, Jared felt himself having a small breakdown. “There’s… there’s just so many… they’re all so…”

“If the next word out of your mouth is pretty, you’re staying home,” Jensen murmured. He was all ready to go, his hair styled, his beard trimmed so there was just a hint of scruff left, and he had chosen dark brown, leather shoes. He looked at the two ties for a moment and chose the light blue one. Jared wanted to protest that the light green one would bring out Jensen’s eyes but he stopped before he hurt himself and had a nosebleed. He stood back and watched Jensen tie it, doing a complicated knot.

At the moment, Jared climbs into the limo, which is being driven by someone Jensen is familiar with. There’s a gift from the studio—a fruit basket with a bottle of champagne—and the inside of the limo is decked out. It’s a fifteen minute drive to the press conference, which will be held on the patio deck of a very posh and expensive restaurant and club. Settling inside the limo and sitting beside Jensen, Jared thinks about his own outfit. He didn’t bring much in terms of fancy clothes, so he’s in a pair of his khakis and one of Jensen’s light green dress shirts. Jensen mentioned that he didn’t have to wear a tie; in comparison, Jared looks a lot more casual to Jensen.

“I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress when we get back,” Jensen sing-songs with a smirk as the limo drives out of the block.

“God help me on our wedding night,” Jared answers with his own smirk. His confidence swaps out for anxiety as he notices that Jensen’s shirt is a little too short in the sleeves for him. He solves it by rolling up the sleeves, hoping everyone will think it’s an intentional style. “You sure I look okay? Why am I here again? The food better be good.”

Shifting in his leather seat, Jensen reaches and gets a can of Coke for Jared, who takes it thankfully. “You’re here because you love me and the food will be great. You get a whole evening to look at my ass in this suit.”

“I could have been watching your ass without any clothes if we’d stayed home.”

“The people need to see me,” Jensen sighs and throws his arm over his eyes. He peeks out from his arm and smiles, eye crinkles visible. “It won’t be so bad, spending the evenin’ swankin’ it up with me? Right?”

Finishing his Coke, Jared fidgets. “Yeah, I mean… what am I gonna do the entire time? You won’t leave me alone while you’re schmoozing with everyone will you? I won’t know anyone either.” The more Jared thinks about this, the more it seems like a bad idea. What if he’s not…civilized enough to be in this kind of company? He can practically recite every line to every movie Jensen’s been in but that information might not be relevant in a room full of Jensen’s colleagues and studio professionals.

Jensen’s hand slips over his.

“You’ll know me,” the older man asserts with a playful tone. “That’s plenty.”

He goes on to explain the way the evening will work, which settles Jared’s nerves a little. In the fifteen minute drive Jared learns that he doesn’t need to look at any specific camera, just smile and wave if he wants to. Someone from the event will direct them through the line of reporters and photographers, so they’ll pause, interview, pause, and interview again before they go into the restaurant. The conference will be first, which means Jensen will leave Jared at whatever table has been assigned to him and go up to the stage. After the Q&A, dinner will be served and socializing is expected. Jensen has a few key people that have been suggested to him to speak to but after that, he’s not obligated to stay. If the evening goes well they’ll be home by eleven.

“Then I can fuck you into the mattress,” Jensen quips as the limo slows to a stop. The sound of people shouting and the flash of cameras are already present and overwhelming. Jared had gotten used to a small group of paparazzi following them around but an entire crowd of them seems horrifying. Jensen pulls Jared in for a quick kiss as the driver opens the door. Jensen gets out first and extends his hand to Jared.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he says, grinning. “Show off that ring.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening has a few bumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super sleepy and about to pass out. excuse any mistakes. enjooooy. <3

“It’s platinum.”

“Huh? It looks like silver.”

“No,” Jensen had said with a small smile as they lay in the hammock. “This is rarer than silver and white gold. Platinum rings are closer to their pure forms than white gold.”

“Jen…”

“It’s a bit much, I know,” the older man had said with a slight blush. He took Jared’s left hand and kissed it gently. “I didn’t go into Cartier and buy it… It’s my Nana’s. I asked for it after Black Friday. You know…” Jensen holds Jared’s hand out and admires the look of the ring on him. “…Right after I asked your momma for her blessing.”

Imagining Jensen and Sherri sitting in the living room while Jensen sweated through his shirt, Jared had laughed and scooted in closer to Jensen. The hammock was quickly becoming his favorite part of the house. “You asked my momma for my hand?”

“Course I fuckin’ asked for your hand. You think I would’ve dared to ask you to marry me without your mother’s blessing?” Jensen snorted into Jared’s hair but Jared could feel the smile there. “My Papa got this for my Nana when they got engaged. He proposed to her in the rain, in New York City, at their favorite bench in Central Park.” The smile faded for a moment but came right back when Jared kissed Jensen’s scruffy chin.

“I like the way you proposed to me,” Jared whispered, lips pressed against Jensen’s, looking into olive green eyes. “A lot.”

The hammock swayed a little at that moment. Jared had never felt time slow down so much as when he was with Jensen. Their light but hungry kiss made the world pleasantly drift by them, passing through like clouds.

“That’s why Loretta was so upset?” Jared had inquired when the kiss broke for a minute.

Jensen looked guilty for a split second. “Well… yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Josh squealed.” It turned out that since Jensen couldn’t get a break from filming, and he didn’t want to ask over the phone, he bribed Josh into setting up Skype for him and his Nana. Josh had driven from Richardson to the retirement community in Dallas to set everything up; he knew without Jensen explaining what he meant to do and congratulated him when the web cam flickered on. By the next weekend, the ring was shipped by courier and delivered to Jensen on set, where he asked two trusted friends from other projects for advice. From there, he went with the highest rated jeweler and got the ring resized. He guessed at Jared’s ring size and guessed accurately; it fit perfectly.

“I’m very familiar with your fingers,” Jensen teased, bumping their noses together.

“Let me just…” Jared pressed his hand on Jensen’s thigh and turned them over in the hammock. “…remind you.”

 

Jared’s ring is—specifically—a Cartier platinum diamond engagement ring. It had been promised to Jensen since he was young; Josh had gotten Nana’s wedding ring and Mackenzie had received a necklace. Jensen’s grandfather—Papa Ackles—had passed away going on twenty years now, and whenever he speaks about him, his voice waivers slightly.

The ring had only been resized; everything else about it is untouched. Jensen worried that it might not be Jared’s style or to his liking, but Jared often glances at it and thinks about how lovely it is. He’s not one for jewelry, especially anything like this, but within an hour of Jensen slipping it on—literally two seconds after Jensen fucked him into the couch for the second time that day—Jared knew that he’d never take it off again.

Sitting at a table filled with people he’s briefly introduced to and can’t remember their names, Jared fidgets and covers his ring protectively. Jensen was whisked away by the people coordinating the event, so there wasn’t much time for them both to settle in. Quickly, Jensen had muttered off people’s names but Jared is damned if he can recall more than one. He knows the lady with the black bob-styled hair, dressed in all black, is named Lydia, but that’s because she reminds him of the Beetlejuice character.

Set in four prongs, the diamond shimmers even in the Miami evening. Needing to know all the details, Jared found out that the stone is one point seventy-five carats and of a brilliant-cut. Because it’s platinum, the band shines bright, almost white. Sleek and simple, it’s truly the most beautiful thing Jared’s ever owned. On the inside of the band are their initials and the date of their engagement. Jensen had the whole thing planned for weeks and still wound up sweating bullets on the boat.

Sighing, Jared tries to keep still in his seat. Going over the facts about his ring is soothing. The people at his table all know each other and don’t pay much attention to the kid sitting with them. Even the dates these people brought with them are familiar and in the know. Names and locations and snippets of projects are passed around and go right over Jared’s head. Even Lydia—who looks the least unapproachable out of all of them—is chatting with two people, flitting back and forth between conversations seamlessly. Jared taps his ring with his finger and resolves to stop being so nervous.

But it doesn’t work that way. All he can feel is his rising anxiety about being left alone. There are people taking pictures of everyone, and he knows he’s in the background for some of them. Going down the mini red carpet the studio had out had been a terrifying experience. The most experience in front of a camera Jared has ever had has been from iPhone selfies and silly pictures that went into his high school yearbook. He had practically clung to Jensen the entire way down the carpet, relieved when it finally ended.

Of course, Jared hadn’t handled the pictures that well _and_ he was completely lost in the interviews along the way. Thrusting a microphone in front of his face, multiple media people had asked on the spot questions, often very personal, ones which he would have liked to ask Jensen about how to answer beforehand.

Luckily, Jensen took over most of the questions, leaving Jared to nod in agreement or stammer our a few words of support. He had walked down the carpet with Jensen’s arm around his waist, guiding him the entire time. But now he’s here, without any reassuring touch or glance or words whispered into his ear.

Finally, the conference starts. Jensen walks out, followed by his co-stars, the infamous director, and two people Jared thinks are producers but he’s not sure. Jared claps along with the crowd but his eyes are on Jensen the entire time. Cameras are going off left and right; it’s a wonder that Jensen can see anything after one of these events. He’s pretty sure every picture taken of him tonight had him being squinty-eyed next to Jensen, who probably looked utterly perfect. Jared sighs and takes a long, detailed look at Jensen again. That suit is both a gift and a curse.

The conference starts out with a clip of the film and Jared is reminded of Jensen’s talent and hard work on screen. It’s going to be a great movie, but Jared knows how exhausted Jensen still is from the month of filming. He’s got one and a half more months to go in Vancouver, then he’ll do a week or two of promotions in key cities across the country and in London, Paris, and Tokyo. It’s not a terribly big movie but the studio seems to be happy with their choice in stars. The last time Jared dared to peek online he saw that many of his old friends were looking forward to seeing Jensen in an ancient Greek setting. It’s not an epic as the director describes to the crowd, but it’s a glimpse into something simpler—the life of a citizen coming to terms with the existence of philosophy and war. As the reporters shuffle through questions about the plot and history, eventually someone asks Jensen’s co-star about how it is kissing Jensen Ackles.

Jared almost laughs. He might not be right next to Jensen, but he can tell from a mile away that Jensen’s tight smile means he’s uncomfortable and a little pissed off.

“Like my sixteen year old self dreamed of—wonderful,” she replies cheerfully, glancing over at Jensen and grinning. “What did I tell you the first day of filming?”

“That you might pass out,” Jensen answers and the crowd laughs, including Jared. He is very familiar with that feeling when it’s about Jensen. “Next question, please.”

The next question asked isn’t any better than the last. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of what should have been asked. Someone Jared can’t see asks, “Is it true your fiancé was on set the entire time and has a part in the movie?”

It’s a ridiculous question and Jared fights back the urge to shout that _no_ , he wasn’t on set and he most certainly doesn’t have a part in this movie and how the fuck does anyone think that’s an appropriate question to ask? Jensen’s smile falters for longer than usual and he’s not quick to plaster on another one. He leans into the microphone and looks directly at the reporter. “If you could please keep your questions related to the film itself and not my personal life, I would greatly appreciate that from y’all. Thank you.”

Even the people at Jared’s table start murmuring amongst themselves. Lydia glances over and Jared and for a second he thinks she actually scoots away from him. He’s got to be imagining that, right? Isn’t everyone here supposed to be as nice and charming and welcoming as Jensen is? Wouldn’t these people sign autographs for their fans on their free time? Wouldn’t these people—whoever the hell they are—make their best efforts to show gratitude and appreciation for what they have?

One of the event people prompts another question, this time for the producer, and Jensen leans back in his chair. Jared sees Jensen’s right leg bouncing—a sure sign that he’s pissed off. He’s about to make a small gesture from across the patio when he feels someone’s hand on his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a server says lowly, leaning down to speak. “Do you have a pass?”

“A what?” Jared blurts out, bristling at being touched.

“A badge or a pass, sir. We’re doing checks and we don’t see yours. Perhaps it’s in your pocket?”

Jared glances around; everyone at his table has a badge. Is that because they’re guests and not part of the actual event? Jensen didn’t give him a badge or a pass or a ticket or anything. Blushing, Jared stammers out that he has no pass but he’s here with someone. The server—a middle aged man in an uncomfortable looking uniform—frowns and asks Jared to come with him.

“But I’m here with…”

“Sir, please, keep your voice down.”

“I am!” Jared snaps and refuses to get out of his seat. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m here with…”

“Sir, the sooner you come with me to security, the sooner we can sort this out. If you don’t have a pass then I’m afraid you cannot be here.”

No one at the table offers to say anything on his behalf.

He’s completely dumbfounded; anyone in Smithville would have said at least _something_.

But this isn’t Smithville. In fact, he can hear people at neighboring tables cough in awkwardness. Panicking and upset, Jared gets up from his seat. He fights the tears in his eyes and flexes his hand, feeling the ring on it. He should have stayed home.

“Jay?”

Jared turns at the sound of his name. Jensen is standing too, looking out from the stage. He responds to Jensen by holding his hands up and nodding towards the server. He wants to beg Jensen to quit drawing attention to this fiasco but there isn’t time.

There is six foot two of pissed off Texan headed their way in two seconds flat.

A small team of security and event handlers pull everyone off to the side and Jensen keeps his voice dangerously low as he’s speaking to the event people.

“I’ve never been so disgusted as I am right now by the treatment my fiancé has received,” he growls out. “He’s with _me_ and if we are going to have a problem here then we need no longer conduct any kind of business with you.”

Someone tries to tell Jensen that they were following protocol and Jared didn’t have a pass but Jensen shuts them down immediately. “This is unacceptable,” Jensen snaps. “I’ve never been asked to give my guests a pass, especially to your events. Not only have you caused my fiancé embarrassment, you’ve also interrupted my work and I don’t think this is going to work out.”

One of the higher ups skids over and starts apologizing to Jared and Jensen. She assures Jensen that this will all be dealt with appropriately and she will take care of everything. This doesn’t convince Jensen but Jared just wants this all to be over. He tugs Jensen’s sleeve and looks at him, hoping that his expression gets the message through. Taking a deep breath, Jensen nods and grumbles out that he’ll be talking to people later about this. The woman in charge thanks them both and desperately wishes them to have a wonderful evening.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Jensen says to him, dropping him off at the same table as before, their hands joined. Jared nods and reluctantly lets go of Jensen’s hands. He sits down and tries to ignore everyone around him. Someone brings around a glass and a bottle of champagne for him, which he sets aside because the last thing he needs is someone taking pictures of him drinking.

As the last part of the conference is wrapping up—with none of the reporters daring to ask Jensen about what just happened—Jared wonders how the hell is he not only going to get through tonight but everything after this also.

It’s not going to be as easy as either of them thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared gets fake George Clooney's autograph and he finishes the night with Jensen, bowls of cereal in their bed included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it makes me so happy to think of jared knowing shania songs. ;w;
> 
> also, i'm sorry for the random nathan fillion in this chapter. (not really sorry but uhm...)
> 
> quick update but here you are, enjoy!

To make the night better, Jensen takes blurry, ridiculous pictures of them in the backseat of the limo on the ride home. Several are of them mashing their faces together in attempts to kiss and take the photo at the same time. Jared’s favorite is the one where his eyes are closed but he’s mid-laughter and Jensen’s eyes are wide open and double crossed, his mouth is pressed in an exaggerated frown, and his nose is smushed up against the side of Jared’s face. Jensen tells him that one may be uploaded to Twitter. A fuzzy, blurry one is chosen where it’s obvious they’re kissing and Jensen’s taking the picture.

The highlight of the night, besides the pictures, turned out to be getting to meet Nathan Fillion, who bumped into Jared at the open bar and tried to get his number.

“He invited me for a ride on his hammer,” Jared tells Jensen as they climb out of the limo. “Promised me his car was named Serenity.”

“Sounds like him,” Jensen laughs and waves off their driver, then opens the front door with his key. “Did you get an autograph?”

From his back pocket, Jared procures a cocktail napkin. In the kitchen, Jensen looks it over. “He signed it George Clooney,” Jared remarks, grinning wide. “I gave him your number, by the way.”

Drinking from the carton of milk in the fridge, Jensen chokes a little. “That’s evil, Jay.”

Over bowls of cereal Jensen apologizes for the way things turned out tonight. They take their bowls upstairs and finish them in bed, shucking clothes off along the way. Jensen is glad to be out of the suit. While Jared’s a little sad about that, he’s also very happy to see Jensen naked, so he figures it's a win-win. Without any clothes on they sit side by side and Jared throws Fruit Loops at Jensen’s stomach. He tells Jensen that he doesn’t much like being interviewed and the food sucked—it was super fancy fusion stuff that came in tiny portions and required a math degree to disassemble and eat. Right after he places their empty bowls on his nightstand, he rolls over and eats the stray Fruit Loops off of Jensen's middle.

“Everyone at my table sucked also,” he huffs, one of Jensen’s hands in his hair. With his tongue, he licks up a Fruit Loop and munches on it, comfortably draped over Jensen. “Everyone except Nathan Fillion was wrapped up in their own little worlds. I could’ve gone home with him, you know.”

There’s a window open, which makes the room airy and crisp; this is another favorite spot of Jared's. Jensen leans back into his pillows and puts his arms under his head, looking at Jared with a challenge in his eyes. “He’d kick you out in two minutes after you tell him you’ve never seen _Serenity_.”

“If I don’t watch it then bad things don’t happen, Jensen!” Jared cries out, rolling over again so that he’s on his side facing Jensen. “I didn’t embarrass you tonight, did I?” The rest of the evening is something Jared is working to not think about. He considers himself shy but capable of social interaction when it’s called for. But tonight was something out of the ordinary. After the Q&A, Jared plastered himself to Jensen’s side, except for when Jensen asked him for a drink and he made an intrepid journey to the open bar, where he was hit on and got George Clooney’s fake autograph by a rakishly handsome, two-buttons-open-on-his-shirt Nathan Fillion.

It all operated like a school dance, really, if Jared thinks about it a little more. Cliques and groups rarely broke apart and everyone was huddled around people they knew. While photos and a few candid interviews were given after dinner, people often turned right back to their clique and ignored anyone else. Jensen mingled well, threading through the crowd, shaking hands and introducing Jared, but Jared no longer remembers anyone’s name or face. He just wanted to get out of there and back here, admiring the freckles on Jensen’s chest.

A kiss is pressed to Jared’s forehead, then his nose, and finally, his mouth.

“I’d say you’re incapable of embarrassing me, but when you start singing Shania, that’s a different story.”

“Jen, don’t be stupid…”

“Like now…”

“You’re so complicated…”

“Shut up,” the older man growls, pressing his mouth onto Jared’s. “I’m gonna fuck you now. Promise me you won’t shout out ‘Nathan’ instead.”

Wrapping his arms around Jensen’s neck, pulling him in, Jared smiles. “Stop overreacting, you even get suspicious when I paint my nails.”

Jensen tries to pull away. Jared doesn’t let go. There are plans for tomorrow which include lying around more and doing lots and lots of nothing. There are three more days of their blissful time off and they still need to talk about what’s going to happen after New Year’s, which they’re spending at home with pizza and beer. The movie requires Jensen on set for another month, back in Vancouver, with a few dates to be in Los Angeles for promotion. After filming wraps up he’ll be flying everywhere for promotions and interviews, then going to premieres. All in all, a lot to do with this movie should be done by March, if everyone is lucky and on schedule. Mid-February he’s on set as a guest star for two episodes shot in LA, and he has a few projects he’s been meaning to read through and talk to his manager about, but that’s all for next year. Jared just hopes they don’t go another three weeks without physically seeing each other. With everything that Jensen has going on, Jared has to figure out a few things about his own life. It all seems overwhelming and he is tempted to ignore the world and its responsibilities just so he can live in the hammock out back. That would be a much simpler solution to everything. 

And, apparently, as Jared found out tonight, he’s been invited to Richardson the day they fly back to Texas, for lunch and a chat with Jensen’s mother. That’s going to be interesting.

“Can I shout out Mal, instead?”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Jared’s breathing too hard and moaning too loud to remember anyone’s name, even his own.

They wind up sleeping on Fruit Loop crumbs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their last night in Miami is New Year's Eve and Jensen has plans for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but sweet chapter! :D 
> 
> /cries/ my new years was pretty fun but this just seems way more amazing. ;w;
> 
> sex and drama in the next chapter! thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for updates! i hope you enjoy. <3
> 
> ps. the song here is "this moment" by melissa etheridge. such a good song, omg. here's a link to it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPew1Cb6NXA

On their last night in Miami, which happens to be New Year’s Eve, Jensen has a surprise for Jared.

Jared was made to wait for an hour, with strict instructions not to look out into the backyard. Not a word was said about what was being done outside but Jared guessed a few times. He tweeted about it twice, musing that he could hear Jensen cussing from whatever he was attempting to do. And, he wrote after, if Texan men spent half the time they did on puttering around, and just asked for some help, a lot more would get done with far less injury.

Finally, Jared is allowed to step outside.

The backyard is lit up with torches. It’s ten minutes til midnight and the torches shine even brighter. The palm trees that line the perimeter of the property are friendly even at night. From a few houses down there are a few fireworks going off in anticipation and Jared looks over at the sparks in the distance. His attention, however, is drawn to the far back left corner of the lawn.

White Christmas lights are strung up around the three smaller palm trees that are separate from the perimeter. Near them and hung up like a movie screen, there’s a large white sheet. It’s draped and tied down over what looks like a volleyball net. An old school movie reel rests on a blanket that’s parked in the center, a little way away from the sheet. Walking closer to the set up Jared sees a Radio Flyer wagon beside the palm trees. It has one giant bowl of popcorn and gummi bears, mixed together the way Jared likes them, and a bucket of beer and water on ice.

Their shoulders bump together.

Jensen slips his right hand into Jared’s left, running his fingers over Jared’s ring. Instinctively they lean in towards each other. Jensen presses his nose under Jared’s jaw. It’s a cool night and they’re dressed in sweats and undershirts. The grass looks dark blue. When Jared takes a deep breath in, he tries to memorize Jensen’s scent—he’s already packed two of Jensen’s shirts in his suitcase.

In eight hours they’ll board a plane for Dallas. In sixteen hours they’ll separate. There’s five minutes left to the year. Jared simultaneously doesn’t want it to be over and wants to see what the New Year has in store for them. His toes curl when he hears Jensen hum. On cue, his breath catches as Jensen starts to sing. In a voice that is a melodic whisper, rumbling and deep, Jensen is honest and sincere. Jared knows the song.

“I wanna stay here in this moment; can I quietly slip into you? You and I can stay here in this moment, let the world fade away, I just wanna stay with you.” Jensen moves to face Jared and kind fingers press Jared’s chin up so that they’re both looking up at a clear Miami night.

It’ll be a month before they see each other in person again.

Singing lightly, Jensen tilts them so their lips are half an inch apart. Jared closes his eyes, holding Jensen’s hands tightly, an ache building in his chest. “I wanna give you the stars, all that I can hold in my arms, placing them where you lay. Tell the angels they’ll just have to wait. Now the heavens have less ‘cause I’ve found the best. I won’t let them take you away, tell the angels they’ll just have to wait. I wanna stay here in this moment; can I quietly slip into you?” His voice builds, his tone more insistent, and he moves his hands to cup Jared’s jaw. Jared opens his eyes. Green meet hazel. “I wanna stay here in this moment; make the earth stand impossibly still. Disappear in your kiss, we’ll never be missed. Let the world fade away… I just wanna stay with you.”

All day they made promises to never go to sleep without talking at least once, even if it’s just a text. Even though Jared knows Jensen will keep those promises, texts can get lonely. He can’t reach out and card his fingers through Jensen’s hair or poke at his freckles or press his ear to Jensen’s chest. Jared is trying his best not to cry, not to have a tantrum, and most of all, not to quit his job and move to Vancouver this very second.

The stars are the same stars he’s seen for the past eighteen years. Yet as he stands with Jensen, this patch of sky becomes theirs.

He squeezes Jensen’s hand and Jensen squeezes back.

 

It’s midnight.

They kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying from Miami to Dallas to Austin and Jared can barely believe their week together is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. 
> 
> i'm always sad to see fics end, but i'm glad to have finished Animated Language so i can concentrate on only three fics instead of four. phew! 
> 
> thank you for your patience, i hope you enjoy this chapter. more to follow! <3

 Sherri meets them at the Austin airport.

The paparazzi that were waiting for them have by now been scared off by an eager mother, who hugs Jensen tight enough to make him wheeze and welcomes him to the family. This is a much more animated reception than Jared received in Dallas, where Jensen’s parents met them to have a quick lunch at one of the secret high-scale restaurants in the airport itself. Lunch was incredibly awkward and stiff, with one mention that Jared should take care of Jensen’s Nana’s ring. It was clearly stated that it is Nana’s ring—not Jared’s ring—and to be polite and respectful to Jensen, Jared let it go. But even Mr. Ackles seemed off; this time he did not call Jared “son.” Handshakes instead of hugs were given to Jared. And he knows this is a small complaint but when everyone’s food arrived except for Jared’s, which was taking a little longer, Mrs. Ackles dug into her food without waiting.

Small detail but Jared still noticed it.

On the plane from Dallas to Austin, Jensen apologized for his parents and promised to talk to them both when he landed in Los Angeles. It wasn’t something that sat right with Jensen.

“They’ll come around,” he sighed and pressed a kiss to Jared’s cheek. “When they do you’ll be missing the days when you weren’t smothered by my family.”

For now, Sherri does plenty of smothering.

She takes them out to lunch ten minutes away from the airport. Jensen’s flight to Los Angeles is in two hours. Over burgers and beer, in a restaurant that makes Jared feel more at home, Sherri asks them all about their PG-rated activities. In the lounge booth, with Jensen and Sherri on either side of Jared, pictures are passed back and forth. She compliments Jared on his ring and tells Jensen he better plan on taking care of her only child, her precious baby boy, the center of her entire world….

“Momma, please,” Jared gasps out when she starts to hug him as tight as she did at the airport. “I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

“You’re not going anywhere period,” she insists, releasing him at last, and looks at Jensen. “You can move in with us, honey. Get you a nice job at the grocery store. A bigger bed could fit into Jay’s room if he ever got rid of some books. Y’all could do nicely in there. I’d even let you have adult time once a week.”

There are few things better than Jensen’s laugh. It’s genuine and natural, accompanied by eye crinkles and a full smile. He leans into Jared. “This is tempting, Jay.”

“Please don’t joke about this,” Jared whimpers. “Both of y’all hate me.”

“This ain’t hate,” Jensen replies, slinging an arm over Jared’s shoulders. “This is love. We’ll just live with your mother until we get a couple of kids and then she can be grandma _and_ a sitter. Ain’t that right?”

Jared knows his mother. She’s torn between craving grandchildren and needing her space and independence. With a sigh, Sherri shakes her head. “No, I’m afraid I’ll be dead by then. Cold and in the grave, unable to sit on any baby.”

“Momma!”

“Although…” she muses and grabs the check from Jensen, literally ripping it out of Jensen’s grip. “It might be worth sticking around to see y’all have some babies. If they’re anything like Jay as a baby they’ll be adorable. Little pee machines but adorable nonetheless.”

Before Jared can protest anything about this conversation, Jensen jumps in. “I want an embarrassing baby Jay story, please, I beg of you. I _need_ an embarrassing baby Jay story.” Jared glares at Jensen, who simply shrugs. “My entire life has been leading up to this moment, sweetheart.”

The server comes by to pick up the check while Sherri is mid-story about the time Jared had just started learning how to walk. His mother has no problem handing the check over and being mid-sentence: “…next thing I see is his little butt running away from me, his diaper in the air, peeing on every single couch, chair, and cushion in the living room. The whole time he kept screaming, ‘Pee-pee! Pee-pee!’”

Five minutes later, Jensen and Sherri are still laughing.

Ten minutes later, in the car, Jensen and Sherri are still laughing.

At the security checkpoint in the airport half an hour later Jensen is still laughing, occasionally murmuring, “Pee-pee!”

When Jensen tries to kiss Jared, Jared grumpily shoves him away. “Nuh uh. You leave without _any_ because you’re being a dick,” Jared mutters, folding his arms over his chest.

“I’m not being a dick. I’m laughing at yours.”

“Good bye, Jensen!”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be that way.” Sneaky bastard pulls out his full-blown Texan drawl and that god awful smile. A strong arm is snaked around Jared’s waist, pulling them close. Jared allows it but just barely. He snorts as Jensen starts pressing apologetic kisses to his nose and forehead. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about what you were up to when you were a toddler, sweetheart.”

By the second sweetheart, Jared relents and clings to Jensen.

“I don’t want you to go,” he confesses into Jensen’s chest. “Stay here and be with me.”

There’s no joke here—just a small sigh and a squeeze in return. Jensen plays with Jared’s hair and there’s not an inch between them. Sherri is holding back the paparazzi and fans that have gathered, doing just as good a job as John would. The airport is filled with people coming and going, most of them rushing past. It’s a background Jared is quickly becoming more familiar with. He wishes this was arrivals instead of departures. Despite traveling for so long, Jensen still smells like Miami. How badly does he need to wish to be back there in order for it to happen?

“Time will fly by, you’ll see,” Jensen murmurs. “Won’t be too long ‘til I’m prying you off of me at night or I’m snorin’ into your ear.”

“Or leaving the milk out.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Or not capping the toothpaste.”

“Hey…”

Jared kisses Jensen.

Hushed, tender murmurs are exchanged, soft and private.

They’re out of time for now. Separating is difficult and Jared feels colder instantly. They will both be busy this month—Jensen with the movie and Jared with the rest of his life. He needs to figure out a ton of stuff and what he’s going to do from here on out. His decisions don’t need to be made on their own and he values Jensen’s opinions. He respects what Jensen has to say and he knows the feeling is reciprocated.

Still, that doesn’t mean being apart is going to be easy—especially after an entire week of being able to reach out and touch Jensen as much as he wanted to. He briefly wonders if it’s going to be like this always. How do people do this? How does Jensen do this? He’s been in the business for years now.

Despite these thoughts, Jared does see the hesitance in Jensen’s eyes.

If he really, truly asked Jensen to stay, Jared thinks he would.

That alone makes him smile.

“Call me when you land,” he calls out as Jensen turns to leave, dark brown carry on following after.

Jensen flips on his sunglasses and takes out a cap from his back pocket. In ten seconds, Jensen goes from movie star to regular guy. Well, to everyone else but Jared, who still sees the waiver in Jensen’s step, the shyness in his wave, and the guarded way he keeps his carry on close to him. He’ll be in a whole other country by the time Jared is going to bed tonight. When they both wake up tomorrow morning the other won’t be any more than a holler away.

One month.

They can hold out one month.

Past security, Jensen turns, waves once more, and walks off to his gate.

The weight of Jared’s ring is comforting. He presses it to his lips, wishes Jensen a safe flight, and turns to pry his mother away from the crowd that’s been watching them this entire time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adjusting to being back home is made a little easier with the use of technology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sex chapter! :D
> 
> my mind is sludge at this point, so enjoy!

Smithville is a very different place when the entire town officially knows Jared is gay and engaged to a celebrity. No one outwardly boos at him or throws anything on his walk to work for his first shift, but it’s definitely odd. Some people he’s never talked to much—never had any interest in him before—come up and try to strike up a conversation. Those conversations usually end in emphasizing their acting abilities, trying to see if Jared would work his fiancé into swinging them a part in one of his movies.

Jared tries to be as polite as possible; he never makes any promises or leaves room for hope. Jensen isn’t in charge of casting at all. He’s much less involved with the movie’s production than most people think.

Those folks are easier to deal with than the mostly older residents of Smithville who stop what he’s doing at the register and lightly remind him that he is in their prayers, or God loves the sinner but not the sin, or, this is the best one, Jensen used to be such a good Texan. What does that even mean? He’s not a good Texan now? What about Jared? He’s technically in Texas more often than Jensen has been recently—why is _he_ not considered a good Texan? Was Jensen supposed to be some kind of Texan ambassador for the rest of the world?

“You used to be a shining beacon of Texan heterosexuality,” Jared snorts into the phone two days after being in Smithville.

There’s a bit of static, the reception in Jensen’s trailer isn’t the best, but Jared can practically hear Jensen’s eyes roll. “They’re just being petty, sweetheart. Don’t pay them any mind.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“Jay, clean your room,” Jensen retorts in a fairly accurate impersonation of Sherri.

“Keep doing that. I’ll hang up and let you jerk off alone.”

Suddenly, Jensen’s voice turns sweet as syrup. “Oh? You were planning something? I got an hour.” Filming is not going well but Jensen has skipped over those details. Jared doesn’t want to force him to talk about anything but he voices his concern. The weight Jensen gained over break now needs to be lost for continuity, therefore, Jensen’s trainer has put him on a rabbit-food diet—Jensen’s words—and a higher intensity workout plan. Jensen enjoys being active, but Jared knows he hates feeling like he has to do something he usually likes doing on his own.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Jared closes his eyes. He puts Jensen on speaker so his hands are free. Sherri is out doing a grocery run. The volume is clicked to the highest setting. “Of course I have something planned,” Jared breathes out, stretching comfortably on his bed. “I’m eighteen and haven’t had sex in two whole days.”

A slight hitch in Jensen’s breath is heard despite the static. “Must be awful for you.”

“Bastard of a fiancé left me high and dry while he travels on business,” Jared teases. He reaches over to the drawer under his bed and finds what he’s looking for. Jensen has his own supplies in Miami, so Jared never has to take his. Everything is still clean and as he left it.

“Sounds like an asshole,” Jensen murmurs. “I could help…”

“Good, cause you look just like him.”

“Handsome devil, ain’t he?”

“Look man, I’m not afraid to hang up the phone.”

“What? I’m merely stating that you have excellent taste in men.”

Lying with his head hanging off the bed, Jared sighs. “You’re too coherent to be turned on.” There’s a small apology followed by a ton of rustling from Jensen’s end. Once he’s comfortable, Jared starts. He keeps his voice at a low tone but loud enough for Jensen to hear. There are instructions and commands for Jensen to take advantage of his position on the bed. He knows Jensen likes this.

“What are you sucking on?” Jensen asks, his breath already erratic. “Jay? What is it?”

With a pop, Jared takes the toy out of his mouth. “What do you think I use when you’re not here, Jen? It’s my favorite toy. “ He slips it in and out of his mouth so Jensen can hear. “It’s about the same size as you.” That results in a groan from Jensen. Jared urges him on; time to put that talented voice to use.

One hand working the toy in and out of his mouth, pushing it down his throat when Jensen says, and one hand stroking his cock, Jared’s eyes flutter. Jensen’s voice is deep and rich in his ear; the crackle of static adds to the depth of sound. When Jared opens his eyes he can see Jensen standing over him. Plastic is replaced by a cock he knows as well as his own. Jensen presses in as deep as he can go, tilting Jared’s head back further, causing tears to form in Jared’s eyes. He hiccups slightly and his throat squeezes around Jensen. A gentle hand presses onto his throat and holds Jared still. Drooling and relaxing, wet and warm, Jared opens himself up.

The hand is taken off his throat and Jensen leans forward, the muscles in his thighs and ass working as he moves. Holding himself up with his left hand, Jensen wraps his right around Jared’s cock. He pushes extra deep into Jared’s mouth—a signal. Get ready.

Mouth open as wide as possible, Jared takes each thrust, moaning every on every other push. Jensen alternates between deeper, slower dives and shallower movements when he wants to hear Jared make more noise. He isn’t cruel but he is rough. His hand rolls Jared’s balls between his fingers and works up to tease his leaking cock head, stroked under the crown with his thumb. Jared feels Jensen’s balls tighten and draw up. He reminds himself to breathe through his nose, puffs of warm breath caressing Jensen’s balls whenever he works down deep enough. The fat, twitching cock is withdrawn a minute later, covered in spit, flushed a deep pink.

Just a pause.

Jensen leans down and kisses Jared, prying his mouth open, tongue flickering, tasting himself. Thick lips seal around Jared’s tongue and mimic what was just being done to Jensen’s cock. The sensation rips a ragged groan out of Jared. He licks at bites at Jensen’s lower lip, panting, pulling him in closer.

The pause is over. Jensen’s cock bobs between his spread legs. Without any hands, Jensen bumps the tip of his cock over Jared’s mouth. Jared doesn’t let him in right away.

He forms a tight O with his lips and Jensen pushes at it insistently. Finally, he gets the hint. Slow. Slow. Slow. Inch by inch, into a wet, warm space that gradually becomes larger, Jensen delves in. His cock swells and Jared responds by pushing his own hips forward.  Jensen’s hand returns, slick with spit, and forms a tight fist at the head of Jared’s cock, encouraging him to fuck into it. Another deep push of Jensen’s cock and Jared braces himself. He relaxes his entire body and closes his eyes. He listens to the sound of Jensen fucking his throat, driving himself in over and over again with a force that causes him to grunt and breathe harder. Jared adds more spit. It coats Jensen’s cock until it’s worked into his throat smoothly, pumping and pushing until the sensitive head starts to twitch.

“Gonna… “ Jensen huffs out, rocking himself forwards and backwards, the long line of his lean body on display. Every muscle is being worked, wound up, and pushed to the finish. Jensen’s mouth hangs open like it always does just before he comes. He bites down on his bottom lip and tosses his head back, reveling in the electricity at the base of his spine that winds all the way to the tip of his cock in the back of Jared’s throat. “Oh, fuck… Jay…”

There’s no need to say what either of them wants.

Jensen pulls himself out of Jared’s mouth and hauls Jared up, so that he’s laying down on the bed instead of hanging off. Jared keeps his mouth open, breathing just as hard as Jensen is, and pushes his tongue out, ready. Jensen strokes his own cock and slaps the head against Jared’s tongue. The first few splatters of come hit his cheek. Jensen groans and tries to muffle the noise he’s making. He keeps his eyes open and watches, in fascination and arousal, as come starts to drape over Jared’s face, ropes of it coating the bridge of Jared’s nose and all over the waiting, red shape of his mouth.

Here’s where the illusion ends.

Jared comes into his own hand, hard enough to make his toes curl and legs draw up. He takes the toy out of his mouth and tosses it onto the bed, trembling from his orgasm, panting raggedly. When he finishes coming once he doesn’t stop; he keeps stroking and a minute later, his eyes are rolling back and he’s coming again. Jensen is slurring encouragement and praise through the phone.

“Oh shit,” Jared groans and rolls over, curling up, his cock still twitching. “Jen… that was…”

“Uh huh,” is yawned back. Jared hears the rustle of sheets and blankets.

“Fuck.” Jared manages to wrap himself like a burrito in his blanket, not bothering with the sheets. He feels colder than usual. This would be the time where they’d be curling against each other. Jense might be cleaning him up right now with a washcloth and affectionate hands. Whatever bed they’d be on would be messy and sticky but it would at least have Jensen in it. Sniffling into his blankets, Jared closes his eyes again.

“I know,” Jensen murmurs, breaking the silence, the sad tone in his voice audible through the static. “I miss you too.”

After a few more minutes of calm silence, listening to each other settle down, Jensen announces that he’s going to take a quick nap before a now necessary shower. They reluctantly start to say goodbye, with mentions of Jensen’s destroyed image as Exclusively Heterosexual Texan. Jensen lets Jared know that he won’t be able to call tomorrow but he’ll text in the morning before heading out. He reminds Jared that the paparazzi aren’t allowed to harass him; anything that happens has to be reported. A few hopeful and naïve paparazzi were waiting for him when he opened Mayhue’s the morning before, Jared relays to Jensen, but Mr. Mayhue took care of them. He assures Jensen that he’ll be fine. There’s not much in Smithville for paparazzi to hang around for anyway.

 

Before they hang up, Jensen has to ask.

“Is it better than me?”

“Is what?”

“Your substitute.”

When Jared understands what Jensen is referring to, he’s laughing too hard to breathe.

Eventually, he wheezes out, “No, Jen, of course it’s not. Nothing is better than you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared finds out that Smithville has changed in more ways than gossip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay an update!
> 
> i've changed the tags slightly. hopefully you can figure out what the word is. 
> 
> several issues at play here--happy to keep moving on!

Jared is in the shower, singing loudly to “Proud Mary,” when his phone goes off. It interrupts his performance, so he peeks out from the shower, moving the curtain aside. By squinting he can tell that it’s Jensen calling. For a moment he debates picking it up. It’s been two days since they’ve actually talked on the phone—Jensen has been busy on set and doing interviews, Jared has worked closing shifts.

Carefully, he taps the screen of his phone to answer it and once more for the speakerphone.

“Tell me you miss me.” Jensen’s voice echoes through the closed bathroom.

“I miss you,” Jared replies and stands back under the spray of water. “I’m in the shower.”

“Oh…” Before Jensen can get any more ideas than the ones that are surely floating around in his head, Jared informs him that he’s in the shower because he was work in half an hour. He woke up late today, so he’s in a slight hurry, but he’s happy to hear from Jensen, if only for a few minutes. As he finishes up in the shower, he talks about his day since he can’t hear Jensen. When the water is off and he’s drying off, Jensen in turn gives him an update about the set. A vow is made never to work with this director again. Script rewrites this late in the game are costly and frustrating for the entire crew and production team. They are one week behind schedule and shooting scenes way out of order. Jared learns that all movies and shows are shot out of sequence to accommodate cast and crew schedules, the writers, and sometimes for budget. But a director shifting things around constantly means that they have no idea what they want.

In addition to the chaos of filming scenes over and over again, the trainer Jensen is working with isn’t the usual one he sees on sets and the routines and diets given to him are exhausting. He can’t eat anything fried, can’t have red meat, and has to eat a certain amount of kale. Jensen pronounces kale like it wronged him in a past life. Adding to the insult are the two, two hour workout sessions he has to do—one in the morning and one at night. There are talks about buying another model helicopter because he needs some way to keep busy on the set without going mad.

Fifteen minutes later, Jared is dressed in dark denim jeans and a light gray polo. Mr. Mayhue doesn’t have a uniform policy but he appreciates business casual. This is at business casual as Jared’s selections go. Many people think that by working in a bookstore, Jared spends all his time reading. In reality he’s often lifting boxes, packing or unpacking pallets, and running back and forth between the sales floor and the register. Today is Wednesday and it’s a week since they had fun on the phone. He’s managed an afternoon shift from noon to four, with the option of staying later if he wants.

“I’m boring you,” Jensen sighs.

“Nuh uh,” Jared replies through a mouthful of toast. “Jus’ eatin’…”

For a beat, Jensen doesn’t continue his rant about the set. Instead, he’s quiet; Jared notices that even as he’s chomping through toast and cereal. He hears another sigh out of Jensen before the older man starts to talk again. “I just… okay, I’ve been doing this for a while now. Ain’t my first rodeo. But… I… my manager pitched a movie with a set in LA and I think… I think I wanna take it.”

Jared places his dishes in the sink and walks over to the front door of the house. He carries the phone along and asks about this new project; he’s still a fan, even if he’s engaged to the star. Another English period piece would be phenomenal. It did well at the box office and even the most die-hard fans gave it good reviews. Plus that would mean Jensen in fancy clothes. Or a comedy. Or anything.

“Don’t make me say it. It’s one of _those_ movies,” Jensen grits out. “You know…”

“A musical?”

“No!”

“Uh… a biopic?”

“No, it’s… ugh…” If Jensen doesn’t want to say the kind of movie it is, Jared wonders how thrilled he will be to be on set for it. “It’s a humorous romantic story, okay?”

Out the door and locking up, Jared laughs. “A rom-com? For real? Lord, did I die and go to heaven?” Immediately, he launches into questions. Who is his co-star? What’s the premise? Is he going to fall in love with his co-star and leave Jared? If so, can Jared still visit and use his pool?

All words disappear the second Jared sees the family car in the driveway. Jensen says his name two times before Jared snaps back to the present. “Hey? What’s wrong?”

Jared has to sit down. He stares at the red spray paint that covers the entire car from top to bottom. It’s a garish red, still wet so it’s dripping. The word painted on is uglier than anything and the repetition of it in Jared’s mind knocks the wind out of him. Over the past week he’s noticed a few little things here and there about people. Some customers are very careful not to touch him; others avoid him and seek out his coworkers to wait on them instead. He has been trying his best to deal with each individual situation and give people the benefit of the doubt, but even his coworkers have been out of sorts with him. Pizza night was on Monday and he was not explicitly invited. Yes, he was closing, but it would have been nice to receive an invitation.

He thought maybe it would just be little things like all of that. He hoped that the worst of it would be people muttering and gossiping, as he knows they always will. Was all that naïve of him to think? The comments at the register and people bugging him for Hollywood connections were things he could deal with on his own.

“I… I have to call the police,” Jared eventually mumbles out, his head down and a hand to his temple.

Panic surges in Jensen’s voice. “What? Why? Sweetheart, what happened?”

Saying the word causes Jared to shudder. Whoever did this had the nerve to do it in daylight.

Hanging up with Jensen to deal with this is more difficult than Jared anticipates.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared tries to get his life back together; he's not sure that can happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter gets heavier towards the end. i wonder if y'all can catch why Sherri cries when Jared says what he does. there's something really vulnerable and ominous about that line. 
> 
> what i really like about this chapter is that you see how young jared really is. sometimes it seems like he's older in this verse. 
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> oh-the podcast here is inspired by the one jensen gave with the winchester bros online a few days ago. i tweaked it, of course, but that's where i got the tone from. :)

In a feeble attempt to cheer himself up, on the walk home from work, Jared listens to a podcast interview that Jensen gave two days ago. Jensen was sent an unedited copy to approve and he went along and forwarded it to Jared. It’s been three days since the incident with the car and Jared wants nothing more than to push past it all.

However, there are huge factors about it that continue to bother him, no matter how hard he tries to ignore them--and boy does he try. He times himself: can he go an hour without thinking about 'it'? Two hours? Shit. Whoever did it felt so confident in the act that they walked right up to their house while Jared was home. Whether or not they knew he was home is unknown but Jared could have easily walked out of the house and caught them in the act. What would he have done then? Discovering it after the fact was so easy in comparison.

Perhaps what bothers him most this Saturday night is that tomorrow at church he might be in the same building as the perpetrator. They might shake his hand and wish him a blessed day or sit next to him during the service. They could do anything and Jared would never know.

The two Smithville officers that showed up took pictures of the car and wrote a small description of the scene, but beyond that, their final answer was: “Nothing we can do. This stuff happens all the time.” The best suggestion they had for Jared was to keep the car inside. Sherri arrived shortly after the cops had left and it’s a good thing that she did; the way his mother reacted, she was well and ready for vigilante justice. If Jared hadn’t pleaded with her to stop from going door to door and demanding that their neighbors speak up, she would still be hunting through Smithville at this moment.

“So this is a podcast? What kind of sorcery is this?”

“Well, it’s like a phone-in interview but we’re uploading to the internet. Much easier for you and by the way, thank you for being with us today, Jensen.”

“Huh. You’re welcome, pleasure to be here. Er, not really here. I’m still in my trailer. Where are y’all from again?”

“Las Vegas!”

“Oh that’s right. I’ll be seeing y’all in just a few months. Always one of my favorite conventions to go to.”

“Ours too!”

“So how many people listen to this podcast deal?”

“Oh just about… well, let’s see… probably around fifty thousand people.”

“Shit. And here I am, just finished working out. Should I have showered?”

As the interviewer comments about how Jensen is free to explain his workout and potential shower, Jared smiles to himself. Jensen is as good a liar as he is actor. He talks about the movie set he’s on right now with enthusiasm that seems genuine and sincere. Expertly, he avoids talking about the director and all the other stressors, and highlights the crew he’s working with and his fascination with history. Although Jensen gets into some deeper topics, Jared is just like the interviewer: what else did Jensen do today?

“Well, I’m coming down with a cold, I think, so I hoarded the orange juice on set today.” That would explain the lower tone in Jensen’s voice; he must be stuffed up. Of course, with all the drama in Smithville and Jensen repeatedly checking in on Jared, there hasn’t been much time to talk. Combined with the producers’ decision to ramp up promotion for the film—thus the permission to do this podcast—Jensen’s schedule has been packed. He’s definitely not sleeping eight hours a night; probably barely even six. Jared sighs and tries to focus back on the podcast as a fan instead of the fiancé. Fiancé is still such an odd word to Jared. It causes him to smile every time he thinks about it. The ring on his finger is a steady companion.

“I think what really pulled me into this project was the character. I’ve never done something set in ancient times. All the intricate pieces of this part were—and are—a blast to study. Thinking about the way people lived hundreds or thousands of years ago… you know, it’s all incredible. And I think that’s why I’ve chosen historical pieces this past year. The roles require more than acting. It’s an entirely different mindset… and I think the audience shares those feelings. A hundred years ago, who was standing in this spot right now? You know?” That isn’t forced enthusiasm at all and Jared knows it. “So, it’s gonna be an interesting switch to get back to things that aren’t historical. I am enjoying this though; it’s different.”

The interviewer asks a question that goes around in a circle and Jensen has to ask her to clarify. Jared laughs to himself because he would be doing the same thing. Who can say anything in an entire, cohesive sentence in Jensen’s presence?

Nervously, the interviewer asks Jensen a question about his personal life. It’s an innocent question, however, and Jensen takes it in stride. “My free time? Oh no. Y’all think I have free time. I think if you called Jared he’d tell you the harsh reality: most of the time I’m off filming or promoting or all the stuff that goes with being tied to a movie. I’m always grateful for the work—and I enjoy what I do—but I don’t get to be home as often as I’d like. But, um, you know, if it were up to me I could probably win a contest for laziness.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Jared mumbles.

“Okay, but do you like to do anything specifically?” the interviewer presses gently, not willing to let Jensen evade her that easily.

An easy laugh fills Jared’s earphones. Rich and warm despite his impending cold, Jensen’s laugh remains as addictive as usual. “Yeah, okay.” Jared can bet that he’s going to mention his recent foray into the world of Minecraft and the constant reruns of spaghetti Westerns. There’s rustling in the background of the podcast and Jared stops walking to adjust the sound on his phone. Shit, did he remember to lock the door before leaving? If he forgot, Mr. Mayhue will rain fire and fury down on him in the morning. Jared turns back. It’ll only take a few more minutes out of his way.

“Well, lately I’ve been glued to the screen playing Minecraft and building houses. If they’re not ready for me when I’m out of makeup then I can usually kick back and play some until they are.” Check. “Um what else. I just sound really boring, don’t I?”

“Not at all,” the interviewer chirps and Jared nods.

“I’m sorry, I just feel like I should be saying something like I snowboard or rock climb or something fancy and exciting like that.”

Taking her chance, the interviewer flirts a bit about her love of Minecraft and all things Steve-related. Jared doesn’t mind. If he were her—what he would have given to be her before all of this—he’d be doing the same thing. Jensen handles it all smoothly and Jared wants to know how the hell this man is real. Who has that much finesse in speaking with other people? Jared is awkward and short on the phone with people he knows; he much prefers texting. Good thing he isn’t the one being interviewed.

Jared thinks he sees something strange outside of Mayhue's, but the store looks just like he left it. A tug on the front door proves that he locked it. As he turns away he swears he sees something in the corner of his eye but nothing and no one is on the street except for him. Smithville shuts down after ten p.m. and it's already nearly eleven. Two steps away from the store, he definitely hears a garbage can being tipped over. The sound of it and shoes scraping on the asphalt makes him flinch.

He doesn't wear both ear phones in for the rest of the walk home.

 

Jensen is talking about his favorite moments of _The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly_   when Jared is closer to home.  He’s walking a little faster than usual tonight. Every sound on the street causes his anxiety to spike. It shouldn’t be like this. He used to be able to walk through Smithville the same way he could walk around his house.

Shaking all of this off for now, Jared reaches his house and pauses the podcast. Sherri has been hovering around the door but she tries to make it seem like she was just watering the plants near the entryway. He hugs her and doesn’t try to squirm away after five seconds. Of course, this sets her off into near tears.

“Jay,” she sniffs and squeezes a breath out of him. “I can’t do this.”

“You can’t pretend to water plants, momma?”

There’s a swat to the back of his head. “No! I can’t… I can’t just _wait_ here while something out there might be happening to you. Do you have any idea how much I have worried tonight? What has Jensen said about all of this? He can’t possibly think this is okay?”

“Of course not,” Jared says, bristling. His mother finally lets him go. They walk into the kitchen and he opens the microwave. She’s left him a plate of dinner. “He’s just… busy. And sick.” He unwraps the plate and heats it up, washing his hands in the meantime. Sherri eyes him closer than a hawk would its prey. “I know you worry…”

Standing up straight, she snaps at him. “No, Jared, you have no idea how I worry. You’re not a parent.” She launches into how only a parent can understand how a parent worries. This is a speech he has heard before and he’s not exactly receptive to it now either. Why does he have to be a parent to know shit about the world? As he’s digging into his plate, Sherri is reminding him—on top of everything else—that he’s only eighteen and he doesn’t know as much about the world as he thinks he does. “A week in Miami does not make you experienced in the world,” she says, arms crossed over her chest. “In his own way, Jensen still leads a very sheltered life.”

It certainly doesn’t feel sheltered when a hundred people are crowding around Jensen, demanding his photograph, shouting personal questions and information, pushing and pressing in closer. Nor does it seem sheltered when Jared hears all the places Jensen has been and the cities he’s seen. Jared challenges his mother—how the hell is Jensen’s life sheltered?

“If something happens to Jensen, he has a bodyguard to deal with it,” she huffs and starts doing the dishes, her movements brisk. “Is something happens to him, he lives in a gated community. Do you think the police would have had the same reaction to what happened here if it had happened to him?”

“Momma, are you mad at Jen?” Jared asks plainly, setting his plate down on the counter, standing to her right. “Cause this is not how you usually talk about him.”

She doesn’t look at him directly and her shoulders tense up. This is just like the time he admitted he had sex for the first time with another boy. She’s upset but she doesn’t want to be.

“Jay, I’m a little pissed that he isn’t making as big of a deal as I am.”

There it is.

Jared braces himself on the countertop and tries to figure out a way to address this. “Momma,” he sighs and shakes his head, “first of all, I don’t think anyone could make as big a deal of this as you.” She acquiesces to that much at least. “Second, I don’t want either of you making a big deal out of this. He offered to fly me out there and I said no. I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself.”

His mother cries when he says that.

They don’t finish talking about half of the things they need to or mean to talk about.

 

And for a while, as he lies in bed later, Jared can’t get his own words out of his head.

I can take care of myself.  


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared comes home from church feeling defeated and hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter made me cry! D8
> 
> this isn't going to be an angsty fic, i promise. but i do want to be realistic. we'll move on from this in the next chapter. it won't all go away and be magically okay, but we're gonna get past this! 
> 
> the song here is "streets of laredo" as sung by Marty Robbins. you can listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L14UKBjC5Is. it's haunting and sad and perfect. 
> 
> thank you for reading. <3

He doesn’t play as well as Jensen, but Jared can play the guitar.

Out from the storage closet his momma last put it, Jared pulls it out and sits in the backyard. This is how he remembers Smithville. This is how he thought it would always be; how it would remain, no matter who he grew up to be.

Overhead, the sky is starting to give way to the sunset, with streaks of orange seeping into crystalline blue. The air is sweet with a slight chill to it. Jared is barefoot and has changed from his Sunday clothes to his most worn in pair of jeans and one of Jensen’s shirts. The entire block is quiet.

Jared closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

More than a few people at church refused to shake his hand. No seat was saved for him for the social after the service. Even with the support of the Pastor, Jared knew that wouldn’t change anyone’s minds. The car could be fixed. It _would_ be fixed. But what could be done about other peoples’ opinions? Nothing.

He has even started to receive a significant amount of harassment on Twitter, with people accusing him of taking advantage of Jensen. Someone came forward and said that Jared wasn’t even at the convention in Dallas. Another user keeps spamming him with direct messages, telling him that Jensen slept with her a year ago and promised that she was his one and only. The words she calls Jared don’t hold back. It surprises him—and it hurts—to see the multitude of people who are determined to ‘save’ Jensen from him. People claiming to be fans of Jensen’s are tweeting Jared about how plain he looks next to Jensen, about how messy Jared’s hair is, about how his nose is too big for his face and how could Jensen ever sleep with someone like Jared—much less propose to him. And it’s not just people who do this. He’s mentioned on tweets from gossip magazines that write articles that frame him as being controlling and manipulative. Another article alleges that Jared wants a big part in Jensen’s next movie and he’s desperate for it.

No one cares that Jared has never wanted Jensen’s fame for himself. That his best memories of Jensen consist of line dancing or licking the grease off his fingers after eating fried chicken. Or watching Jensen’s freckles tan from being on the beach. Or waking up to Jensen next to him after they’ve fallen asleep outside. What does any of that have to do with Hollywood?

The tune he plays is a Marty Robbins ballad; it’s one that Jared has never shared with anyone. And just like Jensen, Jared doesn’t like the sound of his own voice, but this afternoon he pushes past his initial hesitance. He ignores the points where he gets off key—points where he knows Jensen could sing it better—and tries to focus on the lyrics.

His voice comes out somber and his hands are not steady on the frets when he starts.

“As I walked out in the streets of Laredo, as I walked out in Laredo one day… I spied a young cowboy wrapped all in white linen, wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay.” He gets the hang of the guitar but his voice continues to waiver. “Oh beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly. Sing the death march as you carry me along. Take me to the valley then lay the sod o’er me. I’m a young cowboy and I know I’ve done wrong.” Without noticing it, he sniffs at the end of that line.

“I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy, these words he did say as I boldly walked by. Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story. Got shot in the breast and I know I must die.” Jared opens his eyes and looks out past the backyards of his neighbors and towards the clouds. His hands move but he can barely feel the guitar anymore. He is by no means a fancy player; difficult chords trip him up, but this is a simple song. He sings it with more feeling than he knew he had.

The voice of the dying cowboy is sung lower. Jared closes his eyes again and plays harder, forcing his fingers to feel the grit of the guitar strings. “Go fetch me some water, a cool cup of water to cool my parched lips, the poor cowboy said. Before I returned his spirit had lifted. Had gone to his Maker, the cowboy was dead.” Jared leans forward, cradling his guitar. Sherri bought it for him when he was thirteen, from the shop on Main. Mr. Anderson still owns that shop; he was one of the people who refused to shake his hand today. So did Mrs. Quinn, the lady two houses down, whose backyard he can see from here. He used to babysit her youngest. Even eighty-year old Ms. Letty, who used to give Jared sugar cookies every Friday after grade school, turned her back on him after the service, not only refusing to shake his hand and wish him a blessed day, but refusing to even look at him.

Jared would give a lot in this world to have his car vandalized a hundred times over instead of being treated like this. He has never experienced parents holding their children closer to them upon his passing near. He has never been looked at the way some people looked at him today.

The entire population of Smithville knows where Jared works and lives. They also know that the police will always turn a blind eye to what happens to him from now on.

It turns out that he did hear and see something the night before at Mayhue’s. This morning, when Mr. Mayhue opened up, he discovered that the entire back lot of the store had been spray painted with the same red paint and the same sickening word.  Jared had been about ten steps away from whoever is doing these things and he had been alone and on a dark street.

Taking in a shaky, watery breath, Jared is determined to finish the song. His hands are trembling but he _will_ finish this. “Oh, beat the drum slowly…and play the fife lowly. Sing the death march as you carry me along. Take me… take me to the valley… I’m… I’m…I’m a young cowboy and know I’ve done wrong. I’m a young cowboy and I know I’ve done wrong.”

When he pushes the guitar out of his hands, setting it onto the grass, he brings his knees up to his chin and hides his face. The screen door opens and Jared bristles. He can’t face his mother like this. He is the man of the house; he’s supposed to be strong. What does he care what small minded people think? What does he care that someone spit at him in the church parking lot? What does he care that people he thought were his friends refuse to be associated with him now, like being gay might spread? What does he care that now he worries constantly about his mother and her place here—will they leave her alone if he leaves?

How has so much changed because of what is supposed to be happy news?

Why can’t he not care?

The screen door shuts and Jared braces himself for his momma to start demanding that he speak and tell her what’s wrong. It’s what she does. He doesn’t fault her for it but his chest is twisted up and he can barely breathe. He doesn’t want to share his feelings; he doesn’t want to talk about any of it right now.

 

A cough is heard. Long legs stretch out on the lawn, settling next to where Jared sits.

Jensen doesn’t say anything.

Jared lets out the breath he’s been holding.

In the firm hold of Jensen’s arms, Jared cries for the longest time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen turns things around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /cries/ 
> 
> partially inspired by one of my favorite songs ever: "I'll Take Care of You" by the Dixie Chicks. Listen to it here: 
> 
> /cries more/
> 
> i wanted the awkward attempt at a joke. i wanted minimal words that still spoke volumes. i wanted it to sound like this is something jared's hearing while he's held tight in jensen's arms. why do i do this to myself. D8

_Sweetheart._

_I’m sorry._

_None of this is your fault._

_Your nose is exactly the right size. It’s a very nice nose. I plan to marry that nose. It’s that nose that I’m going to wake up to in the morning. I hope your nose will be very happy with my nose._

_You could never be plain._

_I’m gonna take care of all of this, I promise._

_I’m always gonna be here to take care of you, I promise._

_I’ll take care of you, Jay._

_I’m here now._

_Right here, sweetheart._

 

 

 

"Don't go, please."

"I won't."

"Please."

"Not tonight."

"I wanted you here. I just... wanted you here."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both realize that there is no easy solution to what has happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally... phew. i want to thank Mela for all the help on this chapter. i think i have five or six different drafts of this. i kept getting stumped on how to proceed from the last two chapters. it's not that i'm out of things for this verse, i just wasn't sure what the best reaction would be. hopefully this resonates. it's not perfect because i don't think it would be irl. tell me your thoughts. <3
> 
> thank you for your patience! i appreciate y'all being here! :D

Since 1900 the town of Smithville has only increased by about two thousand people. When the railroad came through in the late 1800’s it was a major event.

Jared’s graduating class in high school numbered a robust one hundred. He was a Smithville Tiger for four years—involved in everything from the math club to the spring and fall plays to photography club. Of course he did sports too; he played as often as he could in basketball, track, and football. He helped paint the mural on the west side of the building in his junior year.

As a child, Jared memorized Main Street up and down. A decade later and Main Street has seen better days. Many of the shops are vacant, with For Lease or For Rent signs hanging in cracked, dim windows. But that doesn’t mean he loves Main any less. One of his favorite places is the Milk and Honey Antique store where Mr. MacArthur gave him his very first pinhole camera when he was ten years old. Then there’s the Shangri-la Emporium, Tom-Kat Paper Dolls, and Reminiscents Presents. Further down just a ways is the First State Bank, which is across from and kitty corner to four other antique shops.

Someone once said Smithville specialized in antiques because the town was an antique itself.

“Don’t look at it that way,” Jared insists to Jensen, who is looking out from his Ray Bans.

He can’t express to Jensen how wonderful this town is. How at the end of Main Street, past the post office, there’s the gazebo they host events for every holiday. And just behind the gazebo there’s the Chamber of Commerce, Visitor’s Center, and Railroad Museum all in one building. Jared learned how to work a register when he was twelve years old, working the counter at the museum’s corner gift shop. He spent afternoons reading about the railroad Smithville grew from. And when he got really good at that job, they promoted him to the information desk at the Visitor’s Center, where he’d tell tourists who stopped in how to get back to the highway.

Fuck.

Maybe Smithville doesn’t have private beaches or gated communities or streets packed with shops and flashy stores. Maybe it is a little rundown and old. Maybe it has seen better days… back when the railroad had just come in.

But the smaller it feels to Jared, the smaller he feels.

How can he compete with people who weren’t raised in a town like this? He doesn’t know how to deal with press conferences or red carpet photographs and interviews. He knows that Mrs. Nestor on Pine gets pneumonia every year and she likes chicken and rice soup, not chicken and noodle. He knows that Mr. Mayhue goes fishing once a month and he has a crush on Sherri but he’s never said anything, to her or Jared, but Jared can tell. He knows that Roy, the owner of Roy’s Body Shop, has known Sherri since she was in her twenties but even he can’t afford to lose business. He’ll take care of their car for a discount but he doesn’t want anyone seeing it driven into his garage; bring it out to him at night and he’ll work on it then, he said to them a few days ago.

That’s the shop Jared learned how to do oil changes and how to spit like a man. Doesn’t that count for something?

Even when Jensen is sick—sniffling and coughing—he still manages to look like he doesn’t belong here. Jared feels like apologizing to him; sorry you’re here. Sorry you have to be in this spit of a town, in this middle of nowhere, in a place where the diners and restaurants and B&B’s are just the homes of residents and have never required reservations or name dropping.

“If it produced someone like you,” Jensen says, putting the car into park, “then seems like a fine place to grow up to me.”

After his momma left for work at nine, Jensen and John went into the garage to see the car. John is here for moral support but most of his time has been with Sherri in the kitchen. Everyone got maybe four hours of sleep the night before. Jared doesn’t want to think about any of that right now. He just knows that he will not be chased out of his town. He’s not going to leave. He’s not going to become Jensen’s housewife. And he sure is not going to quit his job just so he can leech off of Jensen’s hard work. It’s his job and he has a responsibility to Mr. Mayhue. He doesn’t care what Jensen, John, or his momma think: he’s not going to run away and hide.

Jensen has driven the car himself to Roy’s, where they are now, followed by John in an unmarked SUV.

He pats Jared’s knee, blows his nose, and gets out with a murmur to Jared to stay in the car for a second. John gets out of the SUV and follows Jensen in. Jared doesn’t pretend not to know what goes on. Within ten minutes Roy is outside with them, practically falling over himself to get the keys from Jensen. He is all “yes sir” and “of course sir” and “anything for Sher and her boy, sir.” An envelope is passed from John to Roy. Roy’s eyes get wider than saucers. He writes something on his clipboard, tears it off, and hands the paper to Jensen who looks it over, nods, and folds it up. Tucking that into his pocket, Jensen looks a little more at ease. The three of them shake hands and Jensen motions for Jared to join them.

“Roy’s gonna strip it,” Jensen murmurs, clearing his throat, his voice sounding rougher by the minute. “You want it the same color or different?” 

Being the eighteen year old he is Jared blurts out the first thing in his head. “What are you doing?”

A sniff and a quick dab with a tissue, Jensen coughs. His brow furrows. “I’m getting the car fixed, Jay. Roy’s gonna change the tires, brakes, and oil too. You’re nearly at two hundred thousand so I figured the car could use it.”

“Maybe you wanna talk to Jay over breakfast?” John suggests, looking at them both and then back at Roy to mention that he and Sherri will be the ones picking up the car today at five on the dot. Roy threatens to break his neck with how enthusiastically he’s shaking his head—of course John, five on the dot and not a minute over, no sir. Thank you, Mr. Ackles. Thank you, John. Jared walks ahead so he doesn’t hear anything else. He doesn’t want to hear anything else. Maybe he doesn’t know as much about cars as Jensen does but he does know the cost of new tires, brakes, an oil change _and_ stripping and repainting the car.

“Why’re you mad?” Jensen calls out, running to catch up with him. “Hey, stop. Stop for one second, Jared and look at me.”

It’s his manners that make him stop, despite the racing thoughts in his head. “Because you just walked right in and… and… you didn’t even ask me! You didn’t ask me if it was okay to do that to the car. And I don’t appreciate you tellin’ me to stay in the car like I’m five years old!”

“What?” Jensen stumbles but catches up. “I… you… okay, okay.” He takes a somewhat deep breath, since his nose is stuffed up. “I’m sorry. What did you want me to do? That’s the _only_ thing I can do, besides be here. Did you want the car to stay that way? I don’t get it.” Once again, John ushers them along, heading towards the diner that’s a block up, towards the gazebo. It’s Jared’s favorite but he doesn’t feel that great as he slides into the booth across from Jensen. John takes a place at the counter where he can see them but still allow them privacy. The privacy part is a joke, Jared wants to tell him. Mary, their waitress and a girl in Jared’s high school class, is already beside herself at Jensen’s presence. Within an hour more people will be flocking over and the diner might actually see a rush for once.

“Hi,” Jensen grumbles to Mary. “Thanks. Look, can I get a cup of coffee, black, please.”

Mary doesn’t take the hint in Jensen’s short, tense tone. “I just loved you in…”

“Mary,” Jared snaps, “not now.”

The look she gives Jared could cause water to freeze. She smiles at Jensen and pats his shoulder before leaving like she has any right to just reach out and touch him. Jensen’s mouth tightens but he doesn’t say anything. For the rest of their meal, which they each just push around on their plates, Mary is all sugar and love towards Jensen. Did Jared miss something? Is he in a relationship with some other movie star? Because the last time he checked, he was engaged to Jensen. It takes two to make a relationship—why is it okay for Jensen to be gay but not Jared?

“People will turn a blind eye towards anything,” Jensen mumbles into his coffee, clearing this throat again. “The extent… ahem… that people will go to ignore what they don’t like about me, or y’know, anyone like me.” He stretches and looks out the window before turning back to Jared. Jensen didn’t look as sick last night but today it’s noticeable. His skin has a gray tint to it and his eyes are rimmed with red. All throughout breakfast he’s been trying to be polite by not blowing his nose at the table.

“I should have asked, I’m sorry,” the older man says, quietly and sincerely. “I… well, you know I have that… ahem… tendency to walk in and solve shit with money. And okay, I get it. A man has pride.” He pushes his coffee cup out to the side of the table in hopes that Mary will stop staring from the counter and give him a refill. “But you know how awful I felt this entire time, that this happened?”

Jared bites on his bottom lip. He is not pouting. The tightness in his chest does not exist. Jensen reaches across the table and places his right hand over Jared’s left. Jared’s engagement ring is all that is between them.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t ask you to,” Jensen murmurs. He pauses and asks, “But why are you staying?”

Last night there were confessions. Jensen wants to hurt whoever spray-painted their car and Mayhue’s. He wants to protect the people he loves—not just Jared, Sherri too. He wants to make everyone in Smithville eat their words; wants to shout until he’s blue that they’re a bunch of hypocrites and two-faced liars who hide behind the name of God. The people who hurt Jared don’t deserve their time but that didn’t stop Jensen from punching the wall of his trailer when he found out about Mayhue’s.

“I wanted to move out,” Jared blurts out, sniffling and wiping at his eyes, “but not like this.”

They are interrupted by John, who regrets to do so, but there are people filing in. If they want to keep talking, it’s best that they do so at home. Everything feels off. Even after the squeeze of Jensen’s hand over his, Jared’s ring feels heavy and cold. Jensen reaches for his wallet to pay for breakfast but Jared digs a bill out of his jeans and places it on the table. Jensen bumps their shoulders together and says a quiet thank you. It’s nothing in comparison to how much the plane ticket to Austin cost at the last minute yesterday, or what Jensen is being deducted from pay by leaving the set today or the repairs on their car… Jared shoves all those thoughts aside for the moment. Getting out of the diner is not so easy.

A few people ask for autographs. Jensen declines, offering no apologies. John remains a solid wall between them and anyone else. It’s been a while since Jared has seen John in full bodyguard mode. When people push Jensen for a photo—just a quick one, c’mon—Jensen doesn’t reply. John does it for him in a tone that’s firm but certainly not mean. He puts his hand up when two women get too close. “Not today ladies, thank you. We appreciate your respect.”

Outside the diner, walking a little faster than they had on the way here, Jared and Jensen don’t hold hands. Jared shoves his into his pockets and Jensen takes the opportunity to blow his nose in a few tissues. When they’re home, Jensen heads straight to Jared’s bed, where they slept together the night before. He sheds his clothes and crawls in but doesn’t fall asleep until Jared is next to him.

He smoothes out Jensen’s hair and looks at the two plane tickets on the nightstand. The offer has been there since Jensen arrived: go to Vancouver for a few days and stay with Jensen on set. But Jared doesn’t have any more vacation time. And how can he leave his mother here to deal with everything? That’s not the kind of son he is.

Normally soft snores are louder now since Jensen is congested. He doesn’t sleep well or for very long until he’s awake, reaching for tissues, coughing and softly asking Jared for another blanket, please.

Set time tomorrow is five in the morning. The last plane from Austin to Vancouver that would make it on time for that call leaves at ten tonight. Jared slips out of bed for two more blankets and to put on the kettle for tea. While the water boils, he rummages through his closet and finds the humidifier his momma bought not too long ago. It’s washed and filled up after Jared makes two large mugs of chamomile tea. As they cool, Jared plugs in the humidifier near his bed. He adds a Vicks tablet to the top portion and his room smells like menthol in seconds. It’s almost eleven. They have ten hours left.

Why are you staying?

Jared changes into his pajamas once more and carefully shuffles into bed beside Jensen, who is cold still despite three thick quilted blankets.

He’s staying because he can’t afford to move out on his own yet. He’s staying because his momma needs his income, even if it’s small, to pay the mortgage and utilities. He’s staying because the world Jensen lives in isn’t at all like the world Jared has lived in and Jared isn’t sure he can handle that all at once. He’s staying because this isn’t how he wanted to leave Smithville or start the next part of his life and he refuses to give in. He’s staying because he has pride.

Groaning, Jensen shifts around in bed, trying to find a good position to lie down in, bothered by the congestion and pressure in his head, plus the aches in his joints. “Shh,” Jared breathes, pressing his nose against the back of Jensen’s neck. He wraps his arms around the older man’s chest and presses them close. Body heat will work better than blankets. Just a few minutes later and Jensen is sleeping a lot better, though it’s the kind of sleep that comes from exhaustion and stress, not the kind needed to rest.

Jared stays awake for a while. When he gives into sleep, he has reached a conclusion.

Maybe pride is his problem.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he's lost, he just has to turn to his left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moving onward! :D
> 
> hope y'all are enjoying the ride so far. <3

“Don’t kiss me, you’ll get sick.”

“I’ll risk getting sick.”

“No.”

“Jen, it’s okay.”

“Fine. A small one.”

 

Jared leaves Smithville on a rainy Tuesday morning. Jensen left the night before by himself in a car that came from the airport to pick him up. He’s made the set call for today despite being sick and running a hundred and one degree fever. They’ve made set accommodations for the past two days just for him and he can’t miss another call. He plans to use his illness as an advantage on set but Jared doesn’t quite understand how. Either way, they separate for twelve hours. Jared pulled out his carryon bag an hour after Jensen left and started packing.

“Long as you don’t mind havin’ a guest around,” he could hear John saying to his momma, polite and appreciative. “Promise you won’t notice I’m here, ma’am.”

“I wouldn’t mind if I did notice you were here,” his momma replied. “And don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old. I’m not that old, right Jay? Just turned thirty last year.”

“For the sixth time,” Jared snapped out with a small laugh.

She came over and he expected a swat to the head and a lecture on how when she was a girl she had half the men in this town kneeling at her front door, begging to let them take her out here or treat her to this. She likes to go on sometimes about how it’s her good looks Jensen best be damn grateful for.

Instead, she hugged him.

She felt so small.

Of course, she read his mind, and it earned him a small cuff to the ear. “Don’t,” she muttered, looking at him directly. “Don’t you dare do that, Jared Tristan Padalecki. Don’t you treat me like I’m fine china. I was never that kind of girl. Never been that kind of woman.” And that’s true. He knew it. She broke each arm at least once climbing trees as a girl. Broke her right leg when she was sixteen and riding an admirer’s motorcycle alone and took a sharp turn too fast. That motorcycle is still in their garage.

“John’s got a gun,” she whispered to him, a glint of excitement in her eye. “Gonna take him shooting.”

The plan is for John to stay in Smithville for a week while Jared joins Jensen on set in Vancouver. It was all Jensen and Mr. Mayhue’s idea. Right before Jensen left he and Jared met with Mr. Mayhue at the store. His employer refused to accept any money for the repairs or business it cost him. The building, they were assured, was insured and it gave Mr. Mayhue’s brother-in-law work for once. But he tipped his ten gallon hat and leaned back in his chair and admitted that he was concerned for Jared’s safety. In his experience, people bent on doing petty things like this didn’t stop until they got the reaction they wanted. It was Mr. Mayhue’s fear that vandalism would lead to something else—and his position in the community did not warrant any more interest from the police. They took pictures, poked around, and did nothing else. A week off is not a problem in comparison. They can manage.

Jared turns this all around in his head on the plane ride from Austin to Vancouver.

A coach ticket would have been fine, he thinks, looking around and sighing. He’s looked up ticket prices for first class flights on this route. His shoulders bristle and he tries to shake off his worry. Stop it. Jensen does these things because he cares. It’s not to make Jared feel less than capable or childish. Sometimes you need to accept help, Jared tells himself. It just seems excessive when there are people waiting on him left and right. He isn’t used to this.

When he lands at four in the afternoon he can’t get his ears to pop. Pulling at his left ear lobe, he sends a text to his momma informing him that he made it just fine. When that’s done he digs around his pockets for gum or something to chew on. This never happened on the flights from Austin to Miami or Dallas to Austin. Then again, those were all at maximum three hour flights and this was six. His ass has fallen asleep and his joints hurt from sitting down so long. Even with more foot room in first class his knees still hurt from crouching. Walking out of the terminal with his carryon, still trying to get his ears to pop, he wonders how the hell he has arrived. Customs was a breeze since he only has one piece of luggage on him and Jensen called ahead. He comes in through this airport so often that the airport staff knows him well. One of the security guards handed back Jared’s passport with a sincere, “Welcome to Canada, sir.”

By the looks of the airport, it doesn’t immediately feel like he’s in another country. Another state, yes. There are no ten gallon hats or belt buckles on display; he doesn’t hear y’all or right quick or any kind of drawl. He follows signs for the above ground exit and prays not to get lost in the airport. Please let him have some kind of sense to find the arrivals pick up, where Jensen said he’d have a car sent.

Ten minutes later and Jared is completely turned around and lost. The layout to this airport isn’t anything like the few he’s been in. Just as he’s beginning to panic, his phone goes off. He expects it to be his momma.

“You’re adorable when you have no clue what you’re doin’.” A Texan drawl. Jared feels the knot in his chest loosen. He can’t punch out a witty response and Jensen gets it. “Look to your left, sweetheart.”

This is bad.

Every time Jared panics he’s going to expect Jensen there to help him out of whatever mess he’s in.

He doesn’t care if it’s cliché or silly or totally predictable. His carryon wheels squeaking, he runs the short distance between him and the man in sunglasses and a baseball hat.

The first thing that’s said doesn’t come from Jared.

“God, I missed you.”

He is greatly loved.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vancouver is seen from the 25th floor of their hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! finally! :D thanks for being so patient! between punzel ending and starting my big bang and updating everything else i finally got inspiration for TWO chapters of house! 
> 
> ugh i'd love to stay in a hotel like this. ;-; can has? 
> 
> onward to upload the next chapter right away. :D

Movies are not made for actors.

Jensen doesn’t get sick days; he has to work no matter what if the production schedules can’t be changed. He’s had directors and producers and suits who have been understanding and some who have entirely blown him off. He missed the births of his nieces and nephews because of production. There were a ton of other things he missed as well—anniversary dinners, holidays, weddings—and he always had to suck it up. A movie set is a business.

Right now, Jensen is considered bankable. That means that studios across the board have determined that his name attached to a project is a good draw for seats in theaters. He is an investment with a history of turning a profit. Movies aren’t made because they’re going to be wonderful additions to humanity; they’re made because they will make the studio money. Jensen has been realistic about that since he was sixteen and starting to work in the business. Bit parts and extra roles and modeling took him out of Richardson and into Los Angeles but even then he got rejection slips and the good old try next time, kid.

No actor is guaranteed a role in a film. Even if the set is in pre-pro, a team of suits can still axe the lead. It doesn’t matter if you have Oscars or if you’re God’s gift to the screen—if the studio finds someone else to draw in seats and ticket sales, they’ll cut you and send you off with a try next time, sir.

It’s a precarious business. On one hand, it’s wonderful to do something that not only pays well—after more than a decade of being in it, Jensen is making top billing—but allows him to be all kinds of people. He’s been a chef, a horse trainer, a doctor in two different time periods, a Navy SEAL, a sandwich shop clerk, a serial killer, a tramp, an accountant… the list goes on. However, he never knows what work he’ll have next, if any. Newbie actors who hit it big overnight make tons of money but also make the mistake of spending it all before they have a new project lined up. When their film bombs and they aren’t bankable anymore, they end up more in debt than when they started out eating ramen and living in a studio. The lifestyle afforded to someone who has a solid role in a Hollywood picture is alluring. Jensen lived that. He bought the posh LA condo, three limited edition cars, and showered his family and friends with gifts.

The harsh reality of the business slapped him in the face after a break up with his then boyfriend, also an actor, whose last words to Jensen were, “Thirty won’t be kind to you.”

He’s had people say worse to him but that stung.

Competition is fierce for actors in their twenties but at thirty? The older you get, the less bankable you are. Sure, it can be done but most male leads hit their peak in their mid-twenties and peter out. They go on to be one-hit wonders and revert back to bit parts and guest appearances.

Calling in sick just doesn’t happen when you’re on set. It creates problems, it costs the studio money, and it may just lead someone to whisper about his work ethic. One day Jensen will no longer be considered bankable by any of the major studios and lead roles will no longer be pitched to him. It’s inevitable and he has accepted it. But he won’t make every movie that comes along because even though he knows what the business is like, he still believes in quality. He turned his life and his career around and started investing instead of spending. He owns everything he has and if something happened right now on this set, he’d be okay.

So he works when he has a hundred and three degree fever. He works when he’s still sick and coughing and his throat is scratchy. He works sixteen hour days, crashes into bed, and gets up at five the next day to do it all over again. But if there’s a possibility for him to beg the producer to talk to the director and give him Sunday and Monday off—he’s going to try.

It won’t always be possible. He got lucky this time—twice. They accommodated him because someone slapped some sense into the director—a happy actor is a productive actor—and they finished early today. He was able to meet Jared at the airport after all, and just in time.

“I got lost in that terminal more times than I wanna admit,” he shares with Jared on the way to the hotel.

The rest of the week that Jared is in Vancouver, Jensen will be working. He’ll start at four most days and work until six at night. Jared has the option of coming on set as a guest but there are strict rules to follow. However, he can stay in Jensen’s trailer if he wants, while they’re there. Or, he can stay in the hotel room and explore Vancouver on his own until Jensen wraps up.

“You work really hard,” Jared murmurs, his head on Jensen’s shoulder as the sleek black car turns a corner in downtown Vancouver. There is a view of mountains and snow that Jared finds overwhelmingly beautiful. It’s snowed twice in Texas his whole life. Snowcapped mountains are something entirely different from a few flurries.

Jensen breathes in deep and slips their hands together. He gives a squeeze, brushing his fingers over Jared’s ring. “Yeah, but that’s the cost of being pretty.”

Jared snorts. “I was trying to have a moment, thanks.”

“I am the world’s best moment ruiner.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be the world’s best kisser?”

“Nope, already know someone with that title.”

“Hey!”

A playful shove is given just as the car pulls up to what Jared sees is their hotel. Holy shit. The door is opened for them and Jensen climbs out first, extending a hand to Jared.

“It’s you, you dork.”

Snow starts to fall. Jared is not in Texas anymore.

 

Everyone in Canada is really nice. It’s a different kind of nice from Texas nice but Jared can’t exactly pinpoint it. More than the different accent, people are just friendlier. Then again, it could just be who he’s with that cause the hotel staff to bend over backwards.

The one carryon Jared brought with is taken and treated as if it were made of gold. Jensen lists off the things Jared has available to him throughout the time he’s here: a car and a driver that will take him anywhere, two silver AMEX gift cards from the hotel as a thank you, anything he wants from room service, and full access to the spa, fitness center, and pool. He is given a key card that will get him into anything he wants at the hotel and the staff already knows his name. Mario, an older gentleman with a thick Spanish accent, introduces himself at their caretaker. Anything either of them requires, it is his pleasure to attend to.

He takes them up to what he calls the Pacific Suite, where Jensen has been staying since he returned. Before break he was at another hotel but they’ve switched for privacy reasons. Towards the end of his stay at that hotel there were employees leaking Jensen’s stay and the paparazzi where waiting outside. This hotel, so far, has been much more discreet.

“You’re going to love the view,” Mario assures Jared. “And the rest of the city, I’m sure.”

“It’s snowing!” Jared blurts out, unable to hold back his smile. “How can I not love that?”

Jensen laughs and shakes his head. “Spoken like a true Southerner. Just wait until it’s snowing forever.”

“You can be a grump all you want, I’m gonna make a snow angel. Somewhere. Just wait.” The elevator is silent as it ascends higher and higher. For a second, Jared wonders if maybe they’ve missed their floor. No building in Smithville is half as tall as this—and _this_ is just a hotel. He wonders how many people are in this building right now. Five hundred? A thousand? The most people he’s ever been in a room with numbered maybe four hundred and that was for his high school graduation ceremony. It would have been neat to see the building when it was being built.

His ears pop a when they reach their floor. Jensen swings an arm around him and they walk behind Mario, who shows them to the suite since Jared is a new guest. It isn’t like any of the other hotels he’s stayed at with or without Jensen. Instead of a hallway with rooms on either side, it’s more like an office building. There is one large open space in the middle for the elevator bank and tables full of fresh flowers. All along the way there are floor to ceiling windows. Jared doesn’t see another room in sight, though he thinks there might be two more on this floor. The spa is two floors below them and the pool is on the ground floor, Mario explains. He has Jared open one of the French doors to their suite so he can see how the keycard works. All he has to do is tap it against the reader and the large, solid doors swing open.

Jared remembers every place they’ve stayed at because every place has had its own perks and charm. But this place?

There’s his carryon, in the center of the entryway, waiting for him, dwarfed by the immensity of the space. Mario details the specifics of the room while Jared staggers forward to the living room windows. Floor to ceiling, just like outside their room, but this, this is entirely different. It feels like if he stepped forward, he’d be outside and in the water or if he reached out he could touch a mountaintop. The snow has turned the skyline cloudy and a little gray but the city’s lights have turned on. Like fireflies, everything sparkles. Pristine and fresh and sweeping, Jared surprisingly doesn’t feel small against the view. He presses a hand to the window and realizes that his mouth has been hanging open.

He catches some of Mario’s details: there are cooks available at any time of day or night and can make anything and cater to any request or dietary restriction. The baby grand piano is meant to be played, so please, Mario insists, make use of it. If it needs to be tuned, the hotel has a tuner on call for that reason. There are two 52’ LCD televisions—one in the living room, connected to sub woofer, and the other in the master bedroom—complete with Blu-ray players and Wi-Fi. There is a fully stocked kitchenette and a private bar for them but with access to the lounge or room service, they don’t need to worry. Even if Jared wants a snack, he shouldn’t hesitate to call for it.

“I believe Mr. Ackles is fond of brownies,” Mario whispers with a knowing smile. “So don’t let him have all the fun.” He goes on to add that anything he needs—a tailor, a personal shopper, a tour guide, tickets to events or locations in the city—the hotel can either provide or send for him. Jensen mentioned that Jared likes to read so Mario took the liberty of making a list of bookstores in the city he might enjoy. The list is given to him and Mario asks if there’s anything he needs or has questions about. The discomfort Jared felt earlier on the plane, about being waited on, is still there. All this? Jensen deserves it, of course he does, he’s the one who has earned it all. He can’t imagine the cost of a night for a regular room in this hotel, much less this suite.

According to Jensen on the way here, the studio has a contract with this hotel. The director and the rest of the crew are staying at the Four Seasons not too far away. 

Of course, Jared doesn't have anything more that he needs or has questions about. He’s a little afraid to touch anything, it all looks so fine. Everything is bathed in a soothing, creamy beige color. The bar is made from dark mahogany and there are real orchids on the living room table.

Mario excuses himself but not before saying it’s been his pleasure and he hopes Jared enjoys his stay. Jared thanks him; Jensen meets Mario at the door before he leaves to thank him again. The doors are closed and Jensen joins Jared at the living room view, embracing him from behind. Jensen smells like peppermint. It calms Jared and focuses his mind away from worrying—for now.

 

Soft lips press against Jared’s left ear.

“How do you ever leave?” Jared asks quietly, unable to stop looking at the mountains.

A nip to his ear lobe. Jared shivers. “Got another view I enjoy more.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared doesn't understand why he's hurting still or how he's looking at the situation. Jensen is patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut in this chapter! you have been warned (or informed!). 
> 
> there are mistakes here but i'm about to crash so forgive me. i'll get them later. 
> 
> idk how i ended up mixing smut with serious bizness. whoops. 
> 
> lots of feels. all the feels. /flails/ a turning point.

It’s not easy to tell that Jensen has just gotten over a cold in record time. He still had a little fever this morning but his sore throat and congestion have all cleared up. It’s also not that apparent that Jensen has flown five thousand miles in three days. Is he tired? Yes. Is he too tired to press Jared into the king-size bed with designer Italian sheets and grind their hips together? Nope.

The windows in their room aren’t floor to ceiling but they still let a lot of light in. Against the glow of the city as it turns to evening, Jared looks up and into hungry green eyes. His breath catches. He traces the shape of Jensen’s lips with his fingers and gasps when firm hands reach down to grope his ass.

There wasn’t time or energy to do anything in Smithville. Jensen was sick and Jared was eaten up by anxiety and grief. That’s what it was—grief.

 _As I walked out in the streets of Laredo… I spied a young cowboy wrapped all in white linen. Oh beat the drums slowly and play the fife lowly. Sing the death march as you carry me along. Take me to the valley, there lay the sod o’er me. I’m a young cowboy and know I’ve done wrong_.

Jensen breathes into him.

 _I’m a young cowboy and I know I’ve done wrong_.

Firm and fueled by voracity, Jensen surrounds him. All Jared hears after that is the chorus of sighs and ragged exhales they exchange.

Clothes are shucked and thrown off. Memories of sunny Miami days aren’t necessary to feel heat. Jared is warm; soon enough, with Jensen’s teeth biting down on his throat, Jared is burning up. He drags his hands up and down Jensen’s back, until he reaches down and gropes just as hard as he was moments ago. His touch starts off shy but it increases until Jensen is punching out huffs and small gasps. This was always a favorite fantasy. Reality doesn’t disappoint; Jensen’s ass is firm and the swell of it causes Jared’s mouth to water.

A glance outside reveals that it’s still snowing.

Shimmied down to the end of the bed, Jared settles and has Jensen lay down.

Longer than he means to, Jared drinks up this view, just as breathtaking as the one outside.

He moves up for a moment and seals his mouth over Jensen’s. He makes the kiss deep and rough and promising. Just as Jensen tries to pull him down, he escapes the hold and returns to the foot of the bed. Taking his time, he grips Jensen’s cock with his left hand and places his right hand on Jensen’s middle. Jensen draws in a deep breath. Jared does the same.

After a minute, Jensen whines.

Not enough. Not enough leverage. Not enough this way.

Fingers card through Jared’s hair in a question. Jared answers by moving them. He flings a few pillows onto the floor and settles on top of them, kneeling as Jensen stands up. It’s quiet in their room—perfect for Jensen to hear every flutter of Jared’s throat as he drives his cock in. They start fast because neither of them has any self-control left. Jensen holds the back of Jared’s head, cradling it, tilting Jared’s jaw and pulling on his hair.

Jared has no gag reflex. He can do this without a problem. But he wants to gag and he knows Jensen wants to hear it. He tightens his throat and searches for an angle. Jensen groans, the muscles in his thighs quivering. His cock fattens up. Jared makes it wet. He pops off for a moment, spit running down his chin and the underside of Jensen’s cock. The bloated head pushes at Jared’s mouth.

In one swallow, Jared forces his mouth over the entire length of the thick cock in front of him. An electric spark goes from the base of his spine to his own twitching cock. He bobs his head and Jensen thrusts to match his movements. Soon enough, Jared yields. He whimpers and breathes through his nose as the pace is picked up. He keeps his mouth as open as possible before he finds the angle. Just like he can make himself deep throat, he can force himself to choke. Slurping and coughing, he gags, shoulders instinctively flinching and his eyes closing from the sensation. When he doesn’t throw up or bite down, he keeps going. He pulls back a little but forces his mouth forward. Muscles in his throat work as he begins to gag again, this time with Jensen helping him. Jensen holds his cock in place for five seconds, allowing Jared to choke on it, moaning loudly, pushing his hips down. Eyes watering and mouth stretched to its limit, Jared doesn’t pop off. He looks up at Jensen and moans in response. This feels good.

Tender fingers press against Jared’s cheeks and mouth but return to the back of Jared’s head.

“Lemme fuck your mouth,” Jensen grits out, his accent out full force. “Jay, baby, baby please. Lemme fuck your mouth. Open up. Please, sweetheart.” A haggard breath is given just as Jensen’s cock twitches.

Pressure is released. Jared allows his mouth and throat to relax. His eyes flutter when he can feel the heavy swing of Jensen’s balls. They move together and Jared slurps loudly. He can see the muscles in Jensen’s thighs and lower stomach working.

“Open,” Jensen commands. “Take it, baby. Take it in.”

One slow, deep thrust as far as he can go into Jared’s throat and Jared catches him by surprise. He starts gagging again, this time louder, doing it while encouraging Jensen to keep pushing. His lips are worked, spit is added, and he has enough sense to concentrate on the careful balance he is maintaining. He knows his face is red from the effort. Tears are running down his face, mingling in with spit. Above him, Jensen is gasping, trying to regain some control. Jared won’t let him have it.

All it takes is for Jared to bob his head faster and suck on the head before taking it all in again.

“Gonna…” Jensen warns but Jared already knows. “Uh… sweetheart…”

He keeps his mouth open and his eyes closed as Jensen comes all over his face. Weighty ropes of come stripe all over his mouth, over the bridge of his nose, and on his cheeks. Jensen strokes himself, wringing every last drop of come onto Jared’s bottom lip. When Jared opens his eyes, he notices how thick Jensen’s forearms are when they’re flexing. He licks his lips and looks up.

“What was _that_ ,” is asked with a happy sigh.

“Dunno,” Jared replies, his voice shot. “Thank you?”

“I don’t need thank you blow jobs, sweetheart.” Come is carefully wiped off with a towel set aside beforehand. “Seriously.”

“That’s too bad, all I give are thank you blow jobs.”

“Jay.”

“What?” Jared sweeps a hand through his hair. He hasn’t come yet and his cock is hard still, bobbing at his stomach as he moves back onto the bed.

They sit on the edge, even though Jensen is boneless. And, despite just getting blown, Jensen speaks with a serious tone. “You don’t have to _thank_ me for anything. I don’t expect things in return from you, especially not this.”

“Then how am I supposed to thank you?” he asks, his tone a little sharper than he intends it to be. “Sorry. It’s just… I… it’s not… this is all I have.”

“If you really feel that that is true, Jay, we’re gonna need a longer talk than this.”

“But I haven’t even come yet.”

Their shoulders are bumped together and green eyes meet his, except this time, there’s sadness there.

“Don’t joke,” Jensen whispers. “Not now.”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t feel like that. I’m sorry. But how can I pay you back for the car? The plane tickets? Sharing your home with me? I… I make nine fifty an hour, Jen. And if something ever happened to you, I couldn’t afford a plane ticket to come out to see you the same way you’ve taken care of me. You know how fuckin’ awful that feels?” Something in his chest twists and squeezes. It doesn’t feel good right now.

Jared is expecting to be scolded or hushed or told that everything he feels is wrong. He knows better than that—he knows Jensen better. But everything still hurts and grief makes people more in touch with their insecurities than ever.

A kiss is pressed to his forehead.

“You’ve got a fever.”

Jared sniffs. “Didn’t wanna say anything.”

“I’ll get you soup.”

“Okay.”

Another two kisses to each of his dimples.

“Try,” Jensen asks, holding his hand, “for me, just try to look at things differently, please? This isn’t a matter of paying me back. That’s not how I want it between you and I. I don’t want us keeping tabs or tallies of material things because then we’ll start keeping tabs over other stuff…” he pauses and looks away before meeting Jared’s eyes again. “ _Important_ stuff.”

Jared wipes away at his tears for the first time this evening.

Why is it that he still feels like he’s holding his guitar in the backyard?

“The most important job I have,” Jensen murmurs, smoothing out Jared’s hair, holding him close, “is taking care of you.”

Another glance out the window. It’s still snowing.

 

Chicken soup arrives half an hour later.

He’s caught Jensen’s cold.

They sleep with extra blankets.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared has a bad day until someone unexpected turns it around. He comes to his own conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how Nathan Fillion wormed his way into this fic but he refuses to leave. i apologize, Mr. Fillion. (sorry not sorry...)
> 
> an important chapter. a very realistic one, i think. even when you have someone awesome in your life telling you great things and giving you love, it doesn't work the same unless you are telling yourself those things as well. after everything that's happened, if i were jared, i would totally be moping and sulking and playing Garbage. XD
> 
> let me know your thoughts on this chapter, please? :D 
> 
> thank you for reading! <3

It’s a nightmare.

They’re in Smithville, walking down Main. Whatever they’ve finished doing or are on their way to, Jared knows they’re happy. He’s holding Jensen’s hand. That is good enough for him.

But then the dream turns dark. The sidewalk becomes a red carpet and Jensen’s jeans and a shirt are replaced with a tux. He holds up an award. Jared feels happiness in his heart but it’s squashed when he’s shoved aside by reporters. Jensen sees it—he calls out for Jared—but the swarm of reporters and talk show hosts and paparazzi grows in number. A mob of fans appears and starts screaming. Jared covers his ears; someone knocks him in the ribs. He isn’t a small person, how is this happening? He tries to stand up straight and risks his ear drums so that he can wave.

The only thing that Jared sees is one last view of Jensen taking a picture with a fan.

Jared gets lost in the crowd.

He wakes up alone.

 

For a few hours, Jared is miserable. Overnight, his fever has broken but fatigue lingers in his body and weighs him down. Most of the morning is spent in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’s like he has a black rain cloud over him. Everything sucks. Everything is rotten and awful and he hates himself for thinking that. Here he is, in one of the finest hotels ever and all he can do is pout and whine about the consequences of dating someone famous. And he isn’t even dating Jensen anymore—they’re _engaged._

When he starts to smell—like come, peppermint, and a six hour international flight—Jared wills himself to get up.

The bathroom is an experience that causes him to stare at it two full minutes before he attempts to make any use of it. What gets him going is the cheap off-brand razor on one of the sink countertops. Jensen has an array of electric razors; they’re usually gifts from studios or family members. He has one his mother gave him for Christmas three years ago but he hardly uses it. Instead, Jared knows, Jensen likes the cheap plastic ones that come in six packs for four dollars. He also likes Barbasol sensitive skin shaving cream if he’s in a hurry. If he’s not, he turns the water in the shower up hot and shaves without cream, carefully and in a habitual pattern. He shaved Jared once in Miami. It was oddly soothing.

Even if Jensen doesn’t live here, he still has traces of home throughout the suite.

On the way to the bathroom, Jared passed the framed copy of their photo-op picture. He passed one of Jensen’s open suitcases on the sofa and he could see his portfolio of personal photographs peeking out. Jensen’s favorite robe from home is here, hung on the back of the bathroom door, suggesting to Jared that he wears it every night.

All these things temporarily lift his mood.

However, in the shower, he starts to feel the rain cloud loom overhead once more. What good is it to notice these things if he can hardly contribute to them? Even something as simple as a robe—it may be a little threadbare from age but it’s Calvin Klein—costs money. Jared is a practical person. He could never justify spending his paycheck on a robe like that. And that’s _if_ his paycheck could afford it.

What kinds of things had Jensen’s exes bought him?

The shower—it’s not really a shower, it’s more like a shower room—has a television screen in it. Jared doesn’t turn it on. He sits under the spray and closes his eyes until his hair is sopping wet. This reminds of him of swimming in the pool with Jensen. Of limes and beers and broken Nazgul salt shakers.

Steam builds up and Jared takes in a deep breath. He can almost smell the chlorine.

Out of the shower room, Jared dries off but gets back into bed naked. He turns on Garbage and plays “#1 Crush” over and over again. When he’s tired of that he switches to the Return of the King soundtrack and forces his mind to think about orcs and elves instead.

At noon, his phone rings and disrupts the epic battle in his daydreams. He bolts up from his nest of blankets and pillows and reaches over to the nightstand on his side of the bed. The only reason he moves quickly is because he thinks it’s Jensen on his lunch break calling. A look at the number proves that it isn’t—it’s from a Texas area code, though. Something might have happened. Holy shit.

“Hello?” he answers, breathless and panicked.

“Jared?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Mrs. Ackles.”

“Oh…” Jared breathes out a sigh of relief but quickly tenses up again. “Hello, ma’am. How are you?” Why is she calling _him_? Did something happen to Jensen on set and she’s calling him to let him know? She doesn’t know he’s up here. There weren’t paparazzi at the airport and certainly not at the hotel when they arrived. Calm down, Jared tells himself as she answers with a tense but cordial throwaway reply. He’s dealt with Dallas ladies before. At least now he knows why some of his older customers refer to winter up North as colder than a mother-in-law’s kiss. Her tone is icy. He wonders if she knows that and does it on purpose or if that’s just how she speaks to people she doesn’t know too well.

“I just wanted to call and give you the address to my mother-in-law’s,” she says, cutting Jared off as he nervously tries to make friendly conversation. “Do you have a pen handy?”

He lies. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Great.” She rattles off an address and wonders if he will be home any time later this week.

“No ma’am,” he mumbles. “I… uh, I’m in Vancouver with Jensen until next Friday.” Today is Wednesday. “Is there something you need, ma’am?”

Silence. Her tone turns to questioning and icy. “Jensen never brings people on set.”

“Well, I…”

“It’s distracting and unprofessional—those were his words.”

“Technically I’m at the….”

“Do you invite him to hang around your place of work while you are on company time?”

“No ma’am but…”

“I see. Enjoy your stay.”

 Click.

 

Burritos are not wrapped as tight as Jared is in his blankets. He is determined to never ever come out from them. Nope. Never. He’ll stay in them forever and be known as The Burrito Boy. In a few years, when he comes to age, he’ll advance to the title of The Burrito Man.

Everything and everyone is out to get him today. He makes a PB&J from what’s in the fridge and drinks half a carton of organic, pulp-free orange juice while still wrapped in his blankets. He debates ordering a buffet from room service but decides that he would much rather lay on the living room floor, pressed against the window overlooking the park and mountains. Somewhere around two, he falls asleep, and at four, his phone wakes him up with a start. He bangs his forehead on the glass.

“Fuck,” he hisses and digs around for his phone. It better not be another phone call from Mrs. Ackles. He’ll be a bad future son-in-law and let it go to voicemail if it is.

When he clutches his phone from the folds of the blanket, he’s missed a phone call from Jensen. The voicemail that has been left is filled with static but Jared can still hear the main part of it: meet him in the lounge at five o’clock sharp—not a minute later.

Outside, Vancouver is overcast. It matches Jared’s mood. He’s hesitant to give up his Burrito Boy title.

He rolls over to the room and finds his carryon.

 

At six thirty, Jared wants to crawl back into the room.

He regrets his abdication of the Burrito Boy throne.

Dressed in a soft, light gray sweater and black jeans, with cowboy boots he thought Jensen might think were funny, Jared has been waiting at a reserved table for two near the window for an hour and a half. The waiter swings by every ten minutes to ask Jared if he’d like to order or if he would enjoy another Coke. Three Cokes in and Jared is tempted to order something with alcohol before his retreat. Not one answer to his three texts or any response to the two phone calls and a voicemail comes through. Jared started to worry at the one hour mark but now he’s pretty sure Jensen either A) forgot or B) got held up somewhere. It’s unlikely that Jensen would forget the date _he_ made, so Jared figures it’s the latter.

That doesn’t really make him feel any better.

It would be different if Jared had chosen to come down here to eat alone. People are looking at him. No one is rude enough to say anything to him, not even his waiter, but the older couple three tables down keeps glancing over every ten minutes to see if who he’s waiting for has shown up. It’s sweet of them, he thinks, but it makes him more anxious that he already is.

At quarter to seven, Jared is getting ready to leave. He can sit and mope in their room. He hasn’t ordered anything so he promises to treat himself to that buffet when calling for room service in a few minutes.

As he’s getting up, someone walks up to his table. It isn’t Jensen.

“If it isn’t my Miami Dream,” Nathan Fillion announces. He sweeps in, all charm and confidence, and somehow, Jared is back in his seat and sitting across from Mal—Nathan. Two seconds later there are fresh drinks on the table and Nathan holds his up for a toast. “To serendipity. I knew I’d find you again, bogus phone number or not.”

Does Jared smack him or ask him for an autograph? A halfhearted protest is attempted but drowned by a sip of what tastes like Coke and gasoline, and the very persuasive voice of an older man with a winning smile. That’s probably what got Jared in trouble in the first place, isn’t it? No one needs to give Nathan Fillion tips on small talk or chatting with strangers. “I have three questions,” Nathan proclaims, drink in his left hand while he signals the waiter with his right. He looks at Jared dead straight in the eyes and speaks without a hint of jest. “What are you doing in Vancouver, why in the hell are you alone, and what would you like to eat?”

Two drinks and an appetizer of ravioli later, Jared has been told stories about the _Firefly_ set, including the time Gina Torres was instructed to do a stunt and ended up kicking Nathan in the ass so hard he had a mark there for a week. Somewhere in between the laughs, the stories, and the attention, Jared figures a few things out. One of them is that Mrs. Ackles gave him that address so he could send the ring back. Well, that would be the polite thing to do, if Jared had any desire to do so.

“So, my Miami Dream,” is said to him like wine pouring into a crystal glass. “Where’s this going?”

Jared smiles wide; he knows his dimples are on display and he doesn’t care. The backdrop of this entire conversation has been another tremendous view of the mountains; overcast skies have turned over to a clear and tranquil night. Jared doesn’t yet completely understand how his life has changed from marveling at the big city sights of Dallas to being in another country and having the privilege of this view for his entire stay. Dinner with Nathan Fillion has also been pretty noteworthy.

Without any hesitation, Jared answers.

“Nowhere, but thank you.” He reaches across the table and pats Nathan’s hand. “I’m a loyal browncoat.”

A smile just as wide as his is returned to him, along with a nod. “That you are.”

Nathan takes care of the check as he gets up from the table. Jared joins him. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He’ll wait in the room for Jensen. As they walk out together, each to their own destinations, Nathan mentions that it’s not just the ring on his finger that people can see from space.

 

Alone on the elevator ride up to the suite, Jared laughs out loud.

He isn’t a small person.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen joins the Burrito and begs for forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience!!! <3 finishing up my Big Bang this week and auuuugh. /head desk/
> 
> i like jared's plan at the end. :D 
> 
> i'm so happy i still have this verse. it gives me warm fuzzies. <3

“What’s it gonna take for you to forgive me?”

“You’re assuming I _will_ forgive you.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. Anything.”

Jared snorts. They’re sprawled out on the living room floor. Jensen somehow smuggled his way into the burrito blanket. “I’ll pitch a script and you have to make the movie.”

“I don’t have anything to do with movies getting made, Jay.”

“You said anything. Get out of my burrito.”

“Okay, okay,” Jensen huffs, his breath warm against Jared’s neck. “What’s the movie?”

“It’s about a killer robot driving instructor who travels back in time for some reason.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and wrestles him to the edge of the living room, until Jared is flat on his back, right next to the window where Jared ended up napping. It’s almost ten; Jensen has a set time of six tomorrow, which means a little more sleep tonight. There are a lot of things Jared wants to talk about and he means to leave them for another time but he can’t help blurting it all out. He doesn’t want to be stood up again. It hurt to wait there by himself—well, for most of the time he was by himself—and even if Jensen has to use a PA’s phone, Jared would appreciate more of an effort to get in touch. He still hasn’t eaten dinner.

And Jensen’s mother called and she was rude and Jared has no idea what to do. How does he handle this? What’s it going to take for her to like him? Is there some kind of Southern protocol he’s missing out on speaking to a very protective future mother-in-law? And what about the rest of their engagement? Is there something else he’s supposed to be doing? They changed his phone number at the beginning of the year so there isn’t press calling him and asking him for interviews but maybe he’s supposed to do one? If he doesn’t, does that speak ill of Jensen? What do the spouses of celebrities do if they’re not famous? What’s he going to do when he gets back to Smithville? Doesn’t Jensen’s mother realize… that if things don’t work out, even if they part amicably, that Jensen’s life would hardly be affected?

They stare at each other in silence for a moment.

Jared bites his bottom lip and sniffs out that his only back up plan is running away with Nathan Fillion. So Jensen better not have any ideas about leaving.

The tip of his nose is bumped with the tip of Jensen’s nose. The older man holds himself up over Jared. It hasn’t taken much time for the burrito to get warm. There’s a ten thousand dollar bed in the next room and here they are on the floor. Texas fills the space between them in the burrito.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Jensen says firmly. “Can I order you dinner?”

“Yeah,” Jared mumbles and tries not to pout.

“Good.” The expression on Jensen’s face softens. “I’m sorry about tonight, Jay. I just… don’t want it to get to the point where I have a PA call you about shit I should be calling you for.” Jensen’s phone broke. He had it at lunch when he called Jared about dinner but got distracted and set it down. The crunch he heard five minutes later confirmed his fears—it was run over by a golf cart on set. Jared accepts the apology because it’s sincere and he knows Jensen didn’t mean to do it. That doesn’t make everything magically better but a kiss helps, as does the promise of as many chicken tenders and fries that he can eat in the next hour.

Instead of wiggling out of the burrito, Jensen rolls them back over to the nearest phone. Jared can’t stop laughing. He lands on top of Jensen, which places him at an advantage. Smirking from above, he relishes the feeling of their bodies lined up together. “Am I too heavy?” he asks quietly, his hands on Jensen’s chest.

“Nope.”

“Good.”

“Would you really run away with Fillion?”

“I think so,” Jared teases and rubs his chin against Jensen’s scruffy one. “It’s not fair you get to grow all the stubble and facial hair.”

Jensen laughs clear, his eyes crinkling. “I… well, that’s the first time I’ve heard that. Thank you?”

“Shut up. Order me dinner. Can I have a beer?”

“You gonna tell your momma about it?”

“I don’t have a death wish, Jensen.”

“Well alright then. You may have _one_ beer.”

“What if I want more?”

“You got ID, kid?”

“No, but I have a great ass.”

Chicken tenders and fries are delivered hot and crispy half an hour later. They eat sitting cross legged on the floor by the window, which has become Jared’s favorite spot in the entire suite.

At the end of their night, Jensen gives him a honey mustard kiss.

 

Jared wakes up alone again the next day. It’s Thursday and he feels a little more animated than yesterday. For a good part of the morning he eats toast and jam while playing on the fancy consoles in the living room. He plays one game an hour on a different system each time. He has an older XBOX at home and a durable PS2 that still has some life left in it. Here he gets to go bowling on the Wii U, play Titan Fall on the XBOX One, and the LEGO Hobbit on the PS4. There are options to have handheld consoles delivered to the room for his use but after three hours of yelling at the big screen television, Jared feels like he should do something else.

Something else involves a shower that takes advantage of the detachable shower head and the excellent water pressure. He’s eighteen—a good majority of his days are spent thinking about sex, masturbating to the thought of sex, or waiting so he can masturbate. A soft, fluffy towel and a heated floor great him when he steps out of the shower.

A pair of slippers is found, as is Jensen’s robe. He finds his burrito blanket and curls up on the sofa again to watch a movie as he eats an actual lunch. It was weird ordering room service. Usually Jensen calls for it. It’s like ordering from a drive-thru but over the phone. He gets a bacon cheeseburger, fries, a chocolate shake, and some chicken tenders. The person who takes his order is incredibly friendly and assures him everything will be hot and ready in half an hour. When it arrives, Jared tries to give the guy delivering the food a tip but he’s met with a friendly, “Gratuity is not necessary, sir. Please, enjoy your meal and have a wonderful day.”

Part of that wonderful day is a burger so good, Jared moans when he takes the first bite. Was he for real sitting in the diner on Main poking at runny eggs and overcooked hash browns just a few days ago?

Is he getting spoiled?

Probably.

Does he care at the moment?

Not really.

His phone rings at three and he hesitates picking it up. He doesn’t know the area code but then again not many people know his new number, not even Nathan Fillion. His future mother-in-law does, and that’s a scary prospect, but Jared takes a deep breath and sets aside his burger to answer the phone. Jensen’s voice instantly soothes him. He’s off early today, finished with the set and he should arrive in an hour. He asks Jared if there’s anything he wants to do in the city or if he wants to spend a day exploring the sheets of their bed. Jared chides Jensen for assuming once again but laughs that he can probably think of something to do.

When Jensen actually does arrive, Jared is dressed and ready. He tries the same outfit from the night before, which he had changed out of by the time Jensen actually did get in. Jensen whistles in appreciation and knocks their boots together. He’s pulled in by the waist and given a kiss that tastes like peppermint and chapstick.

“Whatcha got planned?” Jensen purrs and nudges their foreheads together. “Anything good?”

The temptation to stay in and make a mess of things in places other than the bed is incredibly tempting. Jared almost caves when a wandering hand reaches down and squeezes his ass. He breathes out and smoothes his hands over the trim, broad expanse of Jensen’s chest. Jensen is dressed down today, like he would be in Miami. Jared appreciates the view for a moment, taking in the faded gray jeans, black boots, and dark red button up Jensen is in. He isn’t sure which Jensen is more attractive—a completely naked one or one dressed like they might as well be naked. The clothes aren’t tight fitting; instead, they’re worn in and lovingly cared for like a second skin.

“I… I wanna try something,” Jared murmurs. He steals a kiss. “It’s kind of important.”

“Anything,” is eagerly and sincerely said.

Jared places an inch of space between them and reaches into his back pocket, where he takes out his debit card and hands it to Jensen. He looks directly at Jensen. “I wanna see the city but I want you to see it from my perspective too. Whatever we do, I have to pay for.”

“Jay…”

“Jen,” he counters, “this is important. You’ve said it yourself—you have a tendency to solve problems with money. Well, I don’t have much of that so I have to solve my problems differently. I just… I just want you to remember what it’s like being someone like me, okay?” To be fair, Jensen was never someone like Jared. Jensen grew up in an affluent suburb before he ever made it in Hollywood. There were some lean times out West but his parents never let him go hungry or miss a payment on rent. But Jared doesn’t mention that.

His debit card is held for a second until it’s pocketed in Jensen’s wallet.

With a nervous smile, Jared nods. “Thank you. Uhm, I have two hundred dollars in there from my last paycheck. That has to hold me over for the entire week I’m here and I need fifty dollars for groceries when I get back.”

From the look on Jensen’s face, Jared knows this is going to be a challenge but that’s okay.

“You can spend fifty,” Jared instructs and slips thumbs into the belt loops of Jensen’s jeans. “I don’t have more than that, Jen. I have a savings account but even that doesn’t have much in it and I can’t touch it without racking up fees. Once my money is gone, it’s gone.”

“I know how money works,” Jensen grumbles. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Yep. Now, I’ve Google’d a few places you can take me to that are either free or cheap. Are you ready?”

“I don’t know if I can stand being out among the common people today,” Jensen says with a dramatic sigh.

Jared yanks him out of the living room and into the hallway.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cheap night on the town is started, with a few serious moments mixed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! thank you for your patience! i finally turned in my big bang entry and can get back to my regularly scheduled projects. :D i've missed y'all! <3 
> 
> this was a super cute chapter to write. ;w; 
> 
> more to follow! please enjoy!

In Texas, anything before forty degrees is considered freezing.

Since it’s only ever reached below forty a few times in Jared’s life he doesn’t own a parka or a jacket thick enough for Vancouver in January. He is left wearing one of Jensen’s. Tight in the shoulders or not, Jared wraps himself up in it and can’t stop taking deep breaths of it as they go down the elevator to the lobby. Jensen asks him if he’s okay and Jared just nods and takes another inhale. How could he not be okay? He’s in a beautiful city with a gorgeous man who happens to be _his_ fiancé and whatever they end up doing it’s going to be awesome.

Sherri asked him—on one of those late nights after Miami and before Smithville turned—if he was absolutely sure about getting engaged. It wasn’t a question with anything ill-will behind it, simply the concern of a single mother who had always had Jared to herself. She assured him that the question would be asked no matter who Jared was engaged to, celebrity or not.

Jared answered as simply and as honestly as he could.

At first he was completely star struck. But with each opportunity to see Jensen, especially after he visited Mayhue’s for the first time, Jared found himself looking forward to seeing Jensen as a person and not the actor. He told his momma that night about Jensen’s habit of losing his keys, his preference for really fancy espresso with names in Italian and available only in a store somewhere in Manhattan, and his ability to fall asleep by the pool with his hand in the water.

Now, as they hold hands in the elevator of one of the finest hotels ever, Jared squeezes and he gets a squeeze back. That’s what he always dreamed of from a relationship and whenever he’d think up his perfect partner. When he was ten years old and he already knew that instead of finding a girl, he’d look for a boy instead. When he was thirteen and had a new crush every other week. When he was sixteen and driving and venturing out to Austin in search of _him_. And when he was on the train to the convention last year, wondering if maybe he’d find someone special that weekend in Dallas and it would be the stuff of movies and fan fiction.

This right here is what he’s always dreamed of.

Someone who squeezes back.

 

“You tie your scarf all weird.”

“It’s on me, isn’t it?”

“It could be on you _better._ ”

“Okay, Jensen,” Jared sighs and slumps forward. “Do we have to do this on the sidewalk?”

Mario has offered them the use of a limo but Jared insisted on seeing the city as he would have to see it without Jensen’s connections. That means, to Jensen’s dismay, no limo.  An interjection from Mario meant compromising on a cab called for them instead of hailed on the curb. They’re outside waiting since Jared is restless and being inside makes him more anxious. It isn’t as cold as he thought it would be but Jensen mentions, as he ties Jared’s scarf properly—properly according to his standards—that when the sun goes down the temperature will drop significantly. Three twists and a loop later, Jared’s scarf is tied in a fancy way he never thought possible. He looks down at it and tugs. When it doesn’t unravel, Jensen looks at him smugly.

“See that?” Jensen says with a laugh and points to his head. “Got that all up here in the noggin.”

Jared rolls his eyes and huffs. He can see his breath. It’s very odd. Is this was smokers see? “Where are you taking us first?” he asks and leans against Jensen, bouncing on the heels of his boots.

Before they decided on transportation, Jensen took a quick glance at the list Jared had compiled. There wasn’t much but it would last them a few hours. It’s a little past four in the afternoon now and Jensen has a set call at five tomorrow. If they’re back in the room by eight that should be enough time to wind down before Jensen has to sleep. Jensen’s breath can be seen too, as he rubs his hands together and looks out at the street. Their cab is turning into the hotel’s curbside entrance. “Most of your list would work better in the summer, Jay. They’re great places but not in January when I can feel my balls hiding.”

“Your balls are not hiding,” Jared quips.

“You know this for a fact?”

“Yes. Your balls and I have a psychic connection. They’re doing fine right now. It’s a little dark but hey, they live a good life.”

Clear as ever, Jensen laughs and opens the taxi door open for Jared. “Please,” he says with a little bow as Jared gets in. “Someone on such good terms with my genitals should go first.”

Part of Mario’s reasoning for taking this cab in particular was that the company deals with special requests all the time. Having Jensen on board is a special request: the driver cannot disclose his fares. Although discretion does come at a price, Mario mentioned that this may be the one splurge they call a truce on for the evening. Jared eventually agreed. The last thing either of them needs is a paper picking up their jokes about Jensen’s balls and Jared’s fond relationship with them.

Their driver’s name is Toby and he’s an ex-pat, happy to be with them tonight. This cab system works differently than others in the city; it’s privately run and paid by the hour instead of the mileage. Toby will stay with them for the entire night until they don’t need him. Even if they want to see a sight and wander around for a while, Toby’s job is to stay nearby. However, this isn’t a luxury car. There is no champagne or mini bar in the backseat, no television, and no sleep wooden paneling. It’s a regular car and Jensen’s knee bumps against Jared’s as they pull out onto the street.

The first stop is food. Jensen is hungry and Jared can always eat. Toby gets them there quickly, through the sleek streets of downtown Vancouver and to a place that looks like it’s going to fill up in a few minutes for the dinner rush.

“I know this place from the guys on set,” Jensen explains as they hop out of the car. Toby will swing back in an hour to pick them up. “Sometimes they bring me stuff from this place but I’ve never had the time to actually come here.”

They arrive at a good time because the place closes at six on the weekdays. Outside, the restaurant is painted a bright yellow with a picture of the Virgen up top. Jared reads the sign and laughs: La Taqueria Pinche Taco Shop. Inside, the restaurant is just as brightly colored. Jarrito bottles with Mexican wrestling masks line the walls and the smell of the food is amazing. It’s crowded and small so Jared sticks close to Jensen, holding his hand as they wind their way through and to a table that has just been cleared. A few people here and there recognize Jensen but no one takes pictures or interrupts them. It’s nice and somewhat surprising.

Three plates of tacos are brought out to them after ten minutes. Each plate of four tacos is $9.50 and the drinks are a dollar each. Jared knocks back a pineapple Jarrito while Jensen drinks a mango one. People from all kinds of backgrounds are here and the chefs behind the counter are constantly busy with dine-in and take-out orders. Underneath the table, their boots knock together. Jensen smiles and looks away, feigning innocence. Their food arrives on neon colored plates.

“Okay, so what we have here,” Jensen announces, doing his best Vanna White impression with their plates of food, “are tacos de carne asada, carnitas, and pollo con mole.” Jensen does nothing to fix his gringo accent and he butchers the pronunciation of every taco but Jared forgives him. They dig in and Jared could live off of this food. The tortillas are fresh and the mole is just the right consistency. Tex-Mex is a terrible, terrible thing, but Jared has always been fond of it. Now that he’s tasted Pinche tacos—he snorts as he tells this to Jensen—he has seen the light.

“I could eat tacos forever,” Jensen sighs happily. “I love you.” Jared kicks him from under the table. “Ow! Hey, I was talkin’ to you!”

“Next time don’t say it while you’re staring deep into the soul of your taco.”

“I’m sorry, baby, can you forgive me?”

Jared laughs and swats at Jensen from across the small table. “You’re still looking at it!”

In between enjoying tacos and kicking at each other, Jensen asks Jared about summer in Smithville. What’s it like? Is it busier? Jared smiles and sighs. He wonders, for a moment, what it must feel like to live in a city this big. There are apartments not too far from here. People who live there can just leave their homes, walk a block, and get tacos. It’s not like Jared couldn’t do something similar in Smithville but Vancouver feels different.

“Not really,” Jared admits and finishes the last of his Jarrito. “People pass on through to Austin and the train museum sees a bit more activity but honestly, I spent most of my time reading when I worked there, even on the busy days.” He shakes his head. “I’m starting to see it different, Jen, and I… I’m not sure I like that.”

“Might not be the most comfortable feeling, but that’s what happens when you leave home.”

“Is this how you felt?”

Jensen leans back in his chair and thrums his fingers on the table. “Yeah, in a way. But I wanted to leave. Couldn’t wait to get out.”

“And how’d you feel when you did?”

“Like I could breathe,” Jensen says with easy honesty. The check arrives and he takes it, though Jared notices that his expression isn’t as carefree as it would usually be. “Can’t I at least pay the tip?”

“You can,” Jared replies with a smile, “with _my_ money.”

He hopes Jensen has something free or close to free planned after this because with tip and tax, dinner comes to just about forty dollars. One of the perks at the hotel is being able to withdraw from his debit card without charges. Fifty American dollars converted to just about fifty five Canadian. When they walk out they have ten dollars left. Jensen looks at the ten dollars in his wallet and shakes his head. “I spent all our money on tacos, Jay.”

With an arm around Jensen’s waist, Jared laughs softly. “There’s stuff on my list that’s free, you know.”

“Is sex free?”

“You wish,” Jared snorts into Jensen’s ear. He nips at Jensen’s ear lobe as they stand near the curb. “I wanna see the city, not your butt.”

Jensen twists to look at his ass and looks back at Jared, long eyelashes aiding a wounded puppy face. Even though Jensen is fourteen years older and grumpy as fuck, he has a sense of humor Jared perpetually wants to be around. Jensen’s good mood gets him in a good mood. When Toby pulls up, they’re kissing and Jared is rapidly rethinking his butt comment. Going back to the hotel for a good soak in the shower before falling into bed sounds beautiful.

“Nuh uh,” is snapped by Jensen, who holds the door open for Jared after they separate. “You turned down my butt, we’re continuing with the tour. Onward.” As Jared climbs in, Jensen gropes him.

Once again on their way through Vancouver, to an address Jensen gives Toby, they are tangled up in the backseat, warm and acting like giant five year olds.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen takes Jared to an unexpected sight of the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience as always! :D
> 
> a smaller chapter but i thought it best to keep it quieter here. smut in the next chapter. XD
> 
> the church is Christ Church Cathedral in Vancouver. Google it, I promise you won't be disappointed! it's beautiful, wish I could see it for myself. even if you're not religious, it's a work of wonder in terms of architecture and glass. catholic churches are great for just admiring. 
> 
> enjoy!

Two blocks away from the destination, Jared is ordered to close his eyes. When Jensen discovers that Jared takes a sneak peak anyway, he clamps his hands over Jared’s eyes and they get out of the car just like that. Although they nearly topple over, they manage, and Jensen asks Toby to swing back for them in an hour and a half. Jared squirms around in Jensen’s hold until he gets a knee to the ass and another order to start walking.

“If you weren’t being such a jerk about this, it’d be kind of kinky,” Jared grumbles and takes small, cautious steps forward.

“If you want me to boss you around more often, I can do that no problem.”

“Oh yeah, you’d _love_ that.”

“Don’t knock it til we try it,” Jensen replies, his tone filled with promise. “Now, where we are is not exactly the type of place where these thoughts are… appropriate. Up some stairs and I’ll get the doors.”

Stairs mean a somewhat large building, Jared guesses. He climbs up and Jensen keeps his hands over Jared’s eyes even though they must be making a scene. In a moment of hesitation over a step, Jensen’s hips knock into his and Jared whines softly. He’s full and warm still from dinner and the hands that are on his face are familiar and bring back memories. This can’t be the same week their car and Mayhue’s got vandalized and everyone at church turned him out. It just can’t be.

“Did you bring me to a monastery?” Jared asks, smelling something similar to holy water nearby. “Jen, are you gonna sell me to the monks?”

A deep, rumbling laugh is given and something changes in the feel of Jensen’s hands—they relax. Wherever they are, Jensen feels peaceful. Jared can hear people but it’s muffled until some doors are opened and they get inside the place. Then, the sounds turn into larger echoes, which suggest to him that the ceilings here are high. Just as he’s piecing together what he knows by his senses, Jensen takes his hands off and places one on the small of his back.

“Don’t knock it,” is asked of Jared quietly, with gentle honesty. “I kind of love this place.”

Very little could have prepared Jared for what is revealed to him now. He thought the view from their hotel room was impressive but it is small change in comparison to this.

The architecture is grander and more intricate than anything Jared has ever seen before. Stained glass windows at the front and along the sides are lit up to show every pane of color within them. Iron-wrought lanterns and light fixtures gracefully hang from the high-beam ceiling, lit to fill the space with a serene glow. Dark, rich wood curves all over, forming the ribs of the building, lifting everything up higher. Wood hammer beams arch and cross over each other, creating a look that would be overwhelming were it not so well-kept. In Gothic style architecture, the wood and the red, golds, greens, and blues of the breathtakingly detailed glass. Stately and open, beneath all the finery and detail, the building serves a simple, single purpose: worship. It doesn’t matter what you worship here; the church is open and welcoming.

When Jared manages to take in a deep breath, the heady scents of incense and holy water soothe him.

To think that this sits in the middle of skyscraper and Starbucks territory…

“Wow,” Jared hears someone whisper. A second later, he realizes that that was his voice. His eyes can’t entirely focus—there’s too much to see, so much to take in—and he hasn’t even moved from this spot yet. This is an Anglican church. Saints line up and down the walls, keeping watch over the rows of pews and chairs. A thick red carpet is laid out from the beginning of the pews to the end of the church, where the altar is and a podium stands. Jared pries his eyes off the ceiling lanterns and looks at Jensen, who is looking at him. “What?” he blurts out. Doesn’t Jensen see what’s before him?

“Nothing,” Jensen replies easily, with a smirk and his chin tilted up.

The hand at the small of his back trails over to Jared’s shoulder. Jensen gives Jared’s shoulder a squeeze. “C’mon, let me give you a tour.”

An hour later, sitting side by side in a pew, Jensen passes back Jared’s debit card.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night results in together time. A few new things about Jensen are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut chapter! 8D can you tell where my mind has been lately with this and the Chicago Verse update? X)
> 
> there's nothing too out of the ordinary here (what is ordinary though anyway) but you can look forward to spanking, 69'ing (thank you anon on Tumblr!), anal beads, fingering, oral sex. 
> 
> okay that's all the warnings, other than that, enjoy! :D 
> 
> this is always a fun part of any relationship--figuring out things about each other in bed. XD

Jared watches Jensen’s throat work.

The muscles there squeeze and quiver until Jensen opens his mouth and lets out a sigh. Jared can see the tip of Jensen’s tongue before it laps at the crown of Jared’s cock.

This is too much.

Jensen’s lips kiss the tip.

This is new. It requires more effort than Jared can manage at the moment, caressed and worked open by warming lube and thick, blunt fingers. But it’s more than that. It’s more than his cock stuffed into Jensen’s mouth as deep as it’ll go. It’s the fact that Jensen is flat on his back and Jared is over him on his hands and knees, with his hips at Jensen’s mouth and his own mouth at Jensen’s hips. He knows how this is supposed to work—he should be reciprocating some of what Jensen is doing—but his mind has blown a fuse. It’s difficult enough to remember to breathe let alone do anything else. And every time he looks down he sees Jensen blowing him, his mouth wrapped around the base of Jared’s cock. The sight is terrible and wonderful and...

There is something to be said about an adventurous, older, and experienced lover.

“Jen!”

Something to be shouted and gasped and panted and cried out as the angle gets impossibly deeper.

“Oh…” Jared cries, the muscles in his thighs clenching. He can feel Jensen’s fingers fucking him but that’s not the center of his focus. Every lift of his hips is met with suction from Jensen’s mouth, pulling him back in, demanding that Jared stay at the furthest point surrounded by the vibrations produced by a gentle hum. Looking down, Jared whines. His ass is groped. His legs are spread. He is worked open.

Sounds are heightened. Jensen relaxes his throat. He moves Jared’s hips with his hands, conducting a rhythm that starts slow but gradually rises until Jared hears his cock fucking Jensen’s wet and willing mouth. Just when Jared’s toes start to curl, Jensen pulls Jared’s hips down in one swift motion, swallowing Jared up and hollowing out his cheeks, sucking and pulling with steady pressure applied to the base of Jared’s cock. The sound of it causes Jared’s eyes to roll back and his entire body to stiffen. He makes a noise he wasn’t previously aware he was capable of—something in between a scream and a moan and a sob. Held in place by Jensen’s mouth and hands, Jared feels his balls draw up.

“Ahh!” Jared grits out, grinding his hips down.

Something to be said about someone who knows the trick to delaying an orgasm. Jared could cry.

Reduced to a quivering, sticky mess, Jared’s hips are carefully pushed up and Jensen pops off with a smack of his lips. Jared looks down again and sees Jensen’s Adams apple bobbing as he swallows while taking a break. Feeling bold, Jared pushes his hips down an inch and rubs his cock over the outline of Jensen’s mouth.

A rumbling laugh is given. Affectionate fingertips brush down the back of Jared’s thighs.

“Feel good?” asks a rough and rich voice. The drag of fingernails can be felt over the swell of Jared’s ass.

Is he supposed to be able to form a cohesive sentence right now? Jared mumbles something but he can’t be sure what it is. He can feel himself gaping open from the work done, how easily he has stretched and made a home for Jensen’s fingers. Jensen's tongue laps at Jared’s balls in between the sensitive crease, licking and tasting without hesitance. Jensen presses his mouth over this section of skin and applies pressure.

Jared squirms and gives a watery plea for release. He can do multiples—that’s the perk of being eighteen—and he mentions this in a slur now but Jensen licks the inside of Jared’s thigh and bites down hard. His teeth sink into the meat of muscle and nerves there until a visible mark appears. However, he doesn’t stop. Canines and wet lips meet the underside of Jared’s ass near the back of his thigh. One more time, Jensen bites down, this time in the fleshiest curve of ass, clamping down hard enough to cause him to break his cool and groan.

Of course, Jared is a mess. There have been marks left on him before but never in such private places. Jensen licks and kisses each blooming bruise with a smack of his lips.

“Blow me,” is said in a statement, not a question. Jared shivers. He’s slow to move but Jensen spreads his legs open as Jared assumes position. The offer before him is bountiful—bloated, flushed, and sensitive from its neglect. Kitten licks are swiped over the tip and underneath. Jensen breathes out. His breath is warm. One more nose to Jared’s balls and Jensen’s mouth is mimicking Jared’s.

A question is asked. Texas fills the balmy, sticky space between them.

Jared nods his answer and flexes his arms. Staying up this way requires more upper body strength than any of their other activities. Jensen reaches for something but doesn’t disrupt their position. He takes his hands off of Jared for a few moments and Jared can hear the bottle of lube flipping open again.

“Don’t be shy,” Jensen murmurs. His voice is rhythmic in the dark, kept at a low, grainy volume. “Got no gag reflex either, sweetheart.”

With one elegant motion, Jensen swallows Jared up again, his hands square on Jared’s ass. Jared yelps and shuts his eyes tight for a second, his hips bucking and instinctively thrusting into velvet wetness. He snaps back to what he was doing before, trying to take Jensen into his mouth all the way. But he can’t focus. Halfway down the length, Jared whines from the sensation of Jensen’s throat opening and closing around his cock. Jensen’s movements are natural; Jared feels a little clumsy. He breathes out through his nose and pushes his mouth further down until he feels Jensen’s hands adjust his legs.

Spread wider, Jared’s thighs are rubbed by appreciative hands. He looks down again and sees the outline of Jensen’s strong, scruffy jaw line. Jared pops off of Jensen’s cock when he feels something press against his entrance. It isn’t Jensen’s fingers; it’s blunt and round and about the size of Jensen’s thumb. His breath hitches when it pushes in. Obviously it’s a toy but it’s different. The tip of it is like an orb. When Jensen sees that no pain or discomfort is caused, he pushes the toy in an inch more, still holding Jared’s cock deep in his mouth. He’s able to do that, hold the toy, and apply more lube so that the toy makes a squelching sound. The sound of another orb slipping in causes both of them to shudder. With every inch, each orb gets larger in width. Four orbs in and Jared is clinging to Jensen’s thighs, his own thighs trembling. Jensen does something with his tongue at the same time the fifth orb is pushed in and Jared feels his cock twitch as a result. 

All the orbs are attached to each other. This toy feels like a vibrator, except it’s just a bunch of stacked, plastic balls. Jensen is adding careful to add lube to each orb. The sixth one meets resistance and Jared cries out when the first one pushes onto his prostate. He’s going to come. He has to come.

“Oh god,” Jared cries as Jensen wraps his free hand around the base of Jared’s cock. “Jen, please. Please. Oh god I need to…”

Unable to control his hips, Jared starts thrusting in an effort to get off. He pushes himself up a little higher with his arms and pistons his hips, tears falling when Jensen starts to move the toy in circular motions. Desperate noises leave Jared’s mouth and he begins to beg. Needy and sloppy, his entrance relaxes enough for the sixth and final orb to press in. It’s nearly the size of Jensen’s fist. Jared’s hips stutter. Full. He feels so full. Pain dances at the edge of his senses but it bows out when Jensen starts to moan. A slap is given to Jared’s ass. Jared yips and pushes his hips forward. Jensen opens his mouth wider and when Jared looks down again he can see spit spilling out onto Jensen’s chin.

Another slap to the side of Jared’s ass and Jared shouts. He arches up and listens to Jensen’s hand make his ass pink. Firm, rough gropes are given. A moment of lucidity cuts through Jared’s mind: Jensen loves this. He can’t get enough of the feel of Jared’s ass under his hands. He cups it, squeezes it, kneads it until the marks he left with his teeth get darker. Two loud slaps echo through the room. Jared’s face is flushed and his chest is heaving.

“Please!” he grits out, hands twisting into the sheets of the bed. “Jensen, please. Please can I come?”

The roughest slap yet stings in the best way.

Jared blurts out, “Please, Sir!”

Where that came from he has no idea. But he is rewarded. Powerful, thick arms haul Jared up a few inches, until Jensen pops off and Jared’s cock bobs up near the bridge of his nose. Jensen lets out a ragged breath before biting into an unmarked portion of Jared’s ass. The toy is gripped and driven against Jared’s prostate one, two, three times.

Jared shouts. The base of his cock is freed. A slap, to his ass, a shove of the toy, and then a pull. The last bead pops out. Jared’s entire body thrums. Jensen pulls the beads out one by one, biting down and groaning against Jared’s ass.

Jared gasps throughout a magnified orgasm. Ropes of come lace over Jensen’s face. The pressure that had built up in Jared’s hips releases and his fingers twitch.

Before he can catch his breath, Jared is moved. The toy is out and tossed aside. Jensen crawls out from under Jared and mounts him, sinking his cock into Jared using the lube from the toy and nothing else. Fucked into the mattress, Jared’s eyes roll back. His hair is pulled. His cheek is kissed. He is filled. Jensen orders him to come again. Jared obeys. He cries as he comes for a second time, Jensen pounding his prostate with expert strokes.

Afterwards, Jared’s breathing rattles.

It makes him feel better when he hears Jensen wheeze.

“You’re heavy,” Jared snips weakly. He pushes his hair out of his face. “So…”

Jensen turns them over onto their sides. He’s almost soft enough to slip out but Jared can tell he’s hesitant to do so. A yawn is given. “So?”

Their room smells like sex, sweat, and lube. Jared closes his eyes. “What was _that_?”

A smile can be felt at the back of Jared’s neck. “Uh… I love you?”

“Sure you do,” Jared mumbles and reaches back behind him. He cards his fingers through Jensen’s hair. This is good. This is soothing. He can’t think about anything else other than being tangled up with Jensen. Problems don’t exist right now.

“Sometimes… I get… kinky,” Jensen confesses in a whisper. “If you ever don’t like…”

“Oh no,” Jared says quickly. “Oh no, I like. I like a lot.”

“You sure?” Carefully, Jensen slips out. He manages to toss the covers over them. In a few minutes he’ll roll out of bed and handle the clean up. He’s good to Jared like that.

“Uh huh.”

Jared’s response isn’t eloquent but it does the trick.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three a.m. is spent trying to get Jensen awake for before-work activities. After, Jared gets a phone call from Sherri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience as always! :D here we are!
> 
> Nathan Fillion refuses to leave this fic. he is here to stay. i'm not sure how to feel about that.
> 
> uploading in a hurry so will edit later!
> 
> leave me comments and let me know how you're enjoying Jared's Travels in Vancouver. XD

Three in the morning doesn’t seem so early to Jared. On nights when he stays up reading or finishing a game, three a.m. is time for a second wind and a push to four.

However, three in the morning is not viewed the same way by his fiancé, who is dead asleep, curled up into a ball and snoring contentedly. Jared peers over at Jensen; he has managed to wrap himself up in his own burrito, leaving only a few short tufts of hair sticking out.  For a moment, Jared feels bad for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t want to cost Jensen precious sleep but the manner in which they fell asleep has woken Jared up. There’s forty five minutes before Jensen needs to shower and get dressed; a car from the set will arrive at four thirty. Jensen is very careful about punctuality with his set times, often arriving early out of fear that something along the way will make him late. In his early twenties, when he was on a few television sets as a regular, he had no problems rolling onto set right on time or five minutes late.

As a man in his early thirties, Jensen has a different mentality. Jared smiles when the sleeping beast snuffs into his pillow. Today’s plans are not set in stone. It’s up to Jared to figure out where he’d like to go for dinner and what else in the city he’d enjoy seeing. Set time today will run until six in the evening, but tomorrow’s set call for Jensen isn’t until noon. They have a good portion of time to spend together.

Cautiously, Jared gently pulls at Jensen’s hair. No response. An attempt is made to unwrap Jensen from his burrito but the hold on the comforter is too secure. Fine. Jared snorts and resorts to fighting dirty.

He pushes the comforter away from Jensen’s face and leans over, spooning Jensen from behind. Not so carefully, Jared nips at Jensen’s earlobe. A small change in breathing occurs but nothing else. That’s okay. Jared switches from biting to sucking, pausing to curve his tongue over the shell before turning his attention back to the lobe. He unlatches; Jensen has started breathing a little faster, and Jared sinks his teeth into a jackpot location on Jensen’s neck. A sleepy moan is given, followed by a disappointed whimper when Jared pulls off before a mark can form.

Jared kisses the spot and traces it with his fingers. Three, two…

“I’m up, I’m up.” Blankets are tossed off and Jared squeals as he is tackled and pinned to the bed. Jensen yawns and smiles lazily. “I don’t have to ask, do I?” Texas is here, smoky and debauched, in a rumble from last night’s activities.

“Ask anyway,” Jared breathes and reaches up, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s neck.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Their hips are pressed together. “How do you want me?”

 

Toe-curling, body-trembling, multiple-orgasm-til-Jared-cries kind of sex is had and Jensen still leaves on time. For ten minutes after Jensen is gone, Jared lies in bed, content with the smoking crater that is his brain. He laughs to himself when he thinks of Jensen throughout the rest of his day. He left fresh, rested, and way too perky for four thirty in the morning. As they shared a cup of coffee, Jensen played with Jared’s ass, groping and squeezing, lifting up the shirt Jared had slipped on to join him in the small kitchen area. It’s one of Jensen’s oversized shirts Jared rescued from Miami. There are old paint stains on it from two summers ago, when Jensen repainted his room to its current blue, and one or two holes near the hem. But to Jensen, it’s one of the sexiest things he’s seen Jared in yet.

It seemed to make his morning. Well, that and testing the durability of the hotel’s bed.

If this is how they spend time together on a regular basis, Jared can’t imagine their honeymoon.

Smiling to himself and winding down, Jared falls back asleep.

He doesn’t need much from the world right now. He’s made Jensen happy before a long day on set and that, in turn, has made him happy.

These are little things that Jared takes as big things and he doesn’t take them for granted.

 

“Would it kill you to call me more often? I worry over here, you know that.”

“Yes…”

“Don’t interrupt me, I am not done talking young man. It’s been two days since I’ve heard anything more substantial from you than a two word text message. Now, I understand that you’re in a new place, out seeing things here and there, but I am still here—worrying my ass off!”

“I…”

“What did I say about interrupting? I know Jensen would never have you be in a place that is unsafe but we are not talking about another state—you’re in another country! You said you would keep me in the loop about how you are up there, Jay. Are you eating? Are you sleeping? Is Jensen eating? Is he sleeping? That boy looked like he was about to fall over when he left here. I don’t know how his mother works but I’d be a little more concerned about the stress of a movie on _my_ son.”

“Ma…”

“Well, since you haven’t asked things around here have settled down. People are so chicken shit when you get men with muscles involved. John is a peach, though. He’s outside right now mowing the lawn, which I know is your turf but the man is bored. What do I have to offer him besides following me around at work and watching stories at night? Bill paid a visit last night. The store has been painted and I have to say—it looks much better than it used to. I told him to go with a lighter color this time around and you know what? He listened. It brightens the place up. Now, if we could just get him to do something about the rest of the block, we might have a decent looking place for the summer.”

“Uh…”

“Baby, do you need money? I just realized—here I am, getting ready to take John out to lunch and I don’t know what you’ve been paying with your entire time out there. I know you said you had money but it’s expensive out there with the currency and all. Do you want me to wire something while I’m out? I’m taking John for barbeque. I told him, ‘I don’t do that dainty shit and order a salad and a glass of water just to smell it and say I’m full.’ Nope. We’re eating Mr. Jackson’s pulled pork and ribs with slaw and cornbread. You should see how people react to John. Mrs. Nealson had the nerve to ask me if having a bodyguard is inconvenient! How the hell should I know? Ain’t my bodyguard. But you know her, if God were sweating she’d have something to say about it. Anyhoo, it _is_ nice to have doors held open for me by a man my age. Such a gentleman. And he _does_ have a lot of muscles…”

“Momma!”

“Jay, you don’t have to yell, I can hear you just fine!”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Are you alright?”

“I was _sleeping_ ,” Jared groans into his phone, rolling over in bed. “Momma you’re two hours ahead.”

“So? Means it’s ten by you—get out of bed. I hope you’re being a nice guest, Jay. Don’t leave a mess after yourself in someone else’s hotel room. I taught you better.”

“No ma’am,” he replies on instinct but refuses to get out of bed.

“Are you eating?”

“Yes ma’am, very well.”

“It better not be all junk food.”

“No ma’am.”

“Do you need money?”

“No ma’am, ‘m fine but thank you.”

“Are you having a good time?” her voice is softer here. He knows she worries. He also knows that her guilt trip has worked.

Sitting up in bed, Jared replies, “Yes momma.” The highlights and PG-13 details of his trip so far are told to her as he wakes up. By the end of their conversation, he has managed to walk over to the bathroom. A preliminary glance in the mirror proves that he looks like a porn star who hasn’t bothered to bathe in a few days. He gasps when he turns around and gets a look at his ass.

Of course, his mother insists on knowing what’s wrong. “Nothing,” he blurts out and shuffles the phone around. “It’s…” Holy _fuck_ his entire ass has more marks on it than a cheetah’s. “Momma I gotta call you back. I’ll call you later, okay? Jen… _Jen_ …” Jared grits that last part out. No wonder his ass hurts—it’s been gnawed on. “…won’t be off till six. Okay, gotta go—please be careful, love you!”

Even though Jared knows he’s going to hear about it later, he lets his mother get out a quick goodbye and hangs up right after. He sets his phone down on the bathroom counter and continues to screech as he counts the bite marks and hickeys that cover his ass and thighs.

Ten minutes later, he’s in the shower, masturbating to the fact that the marks aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

 

Given the opportunity, Jared might spend his days doing nothing more than eating chicken tenders, playing video games, and masturbating to thoughts of Jensen’s mouth.

At two in the afternoon, after having done all three of his favorite activities, Jared forces himself out of his lull. Besides, his right hand takes the edge off but it isn’t nearly as satisfying as what he pictures in his head. Dressed and ready to head out, he grabs his wallet, his key card, and one of the AMEX gift cards that are his to spend. Jensen made note of them this morning, insisting that Jared use one to get around the city today. The cards are gifts from the hotel to show their appreciation—meaning, this is one of the perks of working twelve or fourteen hour days and Jensen wants Jared to enjoy it. If he really wants, Jared can get something for him with one of the cards while he’s out.

A quick trip down the elevator and Jared lingers in the lobby, looking over the list of bookstores Mario put together specially for him. There are six on there but Jared really only needs one to keep himself occupied for a few hours. He’d also like a slice of pizza along the way.

The hotel hums with people walking in and out. Someone asks for a cab to be called; another guest asks what time the can make a spa appointment for. Jared takes a seat at on a leather chair near a window, which affords him a lovely view of the street. It’s a clear and deceptively sunny day. The weather app on Jared’s phone informs him it might snow later on and he shakes his head. Snow! Like this trip wasn’t crazy enough already. He scrolls through Yelp and selects the bookstore on his list with the best reviews. He can eat something near the bookstore so that isn’t a problem. Google Maps tells him that the store is two and a half miles away. If this were Texas, he could walk it.

Resolved to be an adult, Jared stands up and starts to walk over to the concierge desk so he can get a cab. Bookstore, pizza, and back to the hotel in time to greet Jensen.

“Miami!”

Jared looks over, recognizing the voice. He smiles when he sees Nathan Fillion waving at him from the elevators across the expansive lobby.

“Oh,” Nathan says with a smirk as he runs over. “No, I wasn’t shouting out to you.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nah. I just enjoy shouting random cities when I see attractive young men.”

Without hesitation, Jared punches Nathan in the shoulder. “Behave,” he laughs and blushes when they make eye contact. He holds up the hand with his ring on it. “I’m spoken for and my fiancé doesn’t take too kindly to other men sniffing at me.”

Rubbing his chin, Nathan frowns. “Hmm, I see. You’re still loyal to him even after I hit on you? How curious. I’ve never had this happen to me before.”

“You’re so modest.”

Nathan crouches down and inspects Jared’s jeans. “Hmm. And your pants are still on. How odd. This is getting more peculiar with every second you are in sight of my good looks.” After a threat from Jared that involves never speaking to him again, Nathan stands back up and gets serious. “Okay, okay, Miami, I know. But you’re just so adorable. You get this little blush that goes over your nose… ah! Focus! Anyway…” Nathan stands back with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a trim, light gray suit. “It’s always nice to bump into you. I just finished a few calls and I’m off for the day.”

“So?” Jared blurts out but recovers with, “I mean…. that’s cool.”

“It is indeed _cool_. Network executives make the worst kind of small talk. But… I was just about to grab lunch and hang around this city for a chance instead of just working in it. Is there any chance you’d like to join me? You know, so I don’t look like a complete loser?”

Those eyes could mean trouble. Jared bites his bottom lip, thinking it over. It was incredibly nice of Nathan to take time out of his evening two nights ago and have dinner with Jared. He knows he doesn’t owe Nathan anything for it—it was done out of concern and manners. Still, something nags at Jared that says this might send the wrong message to people. What if the paparazzi spots them and print terrible things about them? The only one who would lose in that situation would be Jared. A few magazines have already painted Jared as a young up-start, interested in sleeping with the men of Hollywood and using Jensen to do that. It would give Mrs. Ackles more reason to call and complain.

What about Jensen?

But Jensen trusts him, right?

“Okay,” Jared breathes out. “But I had plans too, you know.”

Nathan holds the door open for Jared as they exit the hotel.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch time in Vancouver with Nathan yields a few conversations more serious than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience! here we are. :D 
> 
> next chapter is gonna be lots of fun! smut included. 
> 
> /claps/ round of applause for Nathan Fillion here. XDDD

New York style pizza can be purchased in Vancouver from a hole in the wall place near Pulpfiction Books. The restaurant isn’t big enough for tables or chairs, but there are counters for customers to lean on while they’re eating large, thin crust slices of fresh pizza.

Never in a million years, would Jared have dreamt of being shown the proper way to eat New York pizza by Nathan Fillion. If he didn’t already somewhat know Nathan, he’d be searching for hidden cameras and Ashton Kutcher.

“Fold it,” Nathan instructs, holding his just fine. “Like so, see?”

Two attempts later, with only a small smear of sauce on his mouth, Jared gets the hang of it.

The difference between the pizza he is used to eating at home and this pizza is as wide as the Grand Canyon. Jared finishes two slices of pepperoni in record time. The sauce is light but well seasoned, and the crust is crispy but pliable. It’s messy and cheesy and there are several times when Nathan laughs at the chaos occurring on Jared’s plate. Finishing, Jared closes his eyes and sighs.

“Do you always do that?”

“Huh?”

Next to him, Nathan smiles. “I’ve seen you twice after a meal. You close your eyes and you get quiet for a second. Are you preparing to burp?”

“Oh yeah,” Jared retorts, patting his middle, “just cooking up a real juicy one for you.”

“Some people find burping to be arousing.”

Jared’s nose scrunches. “If I burp in your face, is that one step away from you asking me to call you ‘daddy’ too?” Before Nathan can toss back another nose-scrunching fact or smart ass remark, Jared bumps their shoulders together. “I enjoy a good meal. This was a good meal.”

Nathan nods and keeps his eyes on Jared, like he’s trying to figure out something. What he doesn’t know is that he doesn’t have to observe; he could ask and Jared would answer honestly. Maybe that in itself is a problem. Should he be more guarded? Should he not be here, having lunch with someone famous who is not his fiancé? The voice of Mal breaks his thoughts. “I think that’s part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Something I’m piecing together.” Nathan swats at him and gathers together their plates. “You take the time to appreciate things. Even a couple of slices of pizza are worthy of a portion of your day, even if it’s just seconds.”

A blush spreads over Jared’s face. He tries to hide it as they walk out of the restaurant and back onto the sidewalk. Nathan drove them in a car as fancy as the ones Jared has seen Jensen in and out of. There’s no need to get back into the car, which was expertly paralleled parked in front of the restaurant. Pulpfiction Books is a short walk over. Their strides match up just fine, with hardly any adjustments needed from either of them. “What are you sayin’?” Jared asks, his breath forming small clouds in front of him. “Am I just some kid who likes food too much?” From the tone that Nathan spoke in, Jared is mostly sure that he didn’t mean anything negative by the observation. Still, he has to know for certain.

Even on an overcast day, Vancouver is clear and friendly. Jared wonders what Jensen is doing on set at that moment. Is he tired? Is he frustrated? Is he having a little fun at least?

Pulpfiction Books is an unassuming place tucked in between larger buildings. A red sign outside of it states that books are sold, bought, and traded here. Nathan holds the door open for Jared but motions for him to stop just a few steps in. An easy smile is freely given. “Loosen up, Miami. I dine regularly with execs and producers and suits and all that glitter and cash crowd way too often. That’s how you stay relevant, though. You eat the fifty dollar steak and drink the bottle of vintage red and rub elbows and make small talk. And it’s great because holy shit, you’re eating fifty dollar steak and drinking a bottle of vintage red.” A careful, respectful hand cups Jared’s chin for a second before it settles onto Jared’s shoulder. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Miami. And, you know…” the smirk returns. “The view ain’t bad, especially from behind.”

Without hesitation, Jared punches Nathan in the shoulder.

“Maybe you should stop talking.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Nathan admits as he rubs his shoulder. “Go on, you walk ahead. I’ll follow.”

Another punch and Jared shoves the older man forward.

 

Thirty minutes later and Jared is facing multiple problems. One, Pulpfiction Books carries titles that are out of print and difficult to find. Two, Jared is weak when it comes to books. Three, there is only so much room in his carryon _and_ on his shelves at home. Four, out of print means expensive. Five, Jared could spend days in here, if someone would only bring him food and water.

Two books are set aside for Jensen—a John Wayne biography that Jared has never seen before and one about the myth and archetype of Clint Eastwood’s Man with No Name. He also picks out an audio book, something about the history of Texas barbeque, just in case Jensen wants to listen to something on his next plane trip instead of reading it.

However, the majority of the items that Jared is currently trying to narrow down are ones he’s picked out for himself. There are a few first editions, out of print Ray Bradbury novels, along with a few obscure fantasy writers he’s heard of but has never had the opportunity to pick up. He finds an interesting read about the food industry in the late nineties and the development of national food and safety policy as dictated by McDonald’s. Plus, he digs through a bin and unearths two out of print books of poetry by one of his favorite poets, and in the search he happens across two more books that grab his interest. The art section is devastating. He finds collections of fantasy art that he can’t put down along with texts about the Renaissance with theories he’s never seen actual academics take on.

“A few people have formed abstract, obtuse arguments about how Da Vinci and Michelangelo were actually lovers,” Jared rattles on, flipping through one of the art history books. “Instead of bitter rivals, fighting for the respect and money of Florence, some historians are putting together ideas that they were in a rocky relationship. It’s fascinating.” Jared picks up another book. “But I think it’s completely untrue, I mean… listen to this, ‘Michelangelo, in numerous letters written about him—from his family members to colleagues to Florentine social elite—is always depicted by one common theme: the shoddiness of his dress.’ The dude was basically a hobo who painted the Sistine Chapel, one of the greatest frescos ever. But Da Vinci was a man all about feathers and silk. He was in Armani and Michelangelo was in the clearance shirts from Wal-Mart.”

But the argument on the other side is amusing, even if it’s not terribly well-supported. Nathan shakes his head and asks Jared if he’s interested in anything else other than the romantic lives of dead Italian artists.

Blinking, Jared tilts his head. “There are other things in life than this?”

The look of shock on Nathan’s face is genuine and Jared cackles after he gets a good view of it. He slaps his knee, laughing so hard he has to put down the books he’s got in his lap. They’ve settled into two armchairs towards the back of the store, near the art and classics section. The store smells like old books and coffee; Jared wants to bottle it up and send it back to Texas. He kind of wants to ask one of the employees for a tour, or to ask them questions about their stock and supply, but that can wait.

“I like… stuff,” Jared admits with a shrug. “I was small for my age until I turned fifteen. I kinda grew too attached to the books I checked out from the library. And I spent my summers working at a train museum, so there was always time to read.” He picks up another book and runs his fingers over the cloth cover. “Jen… one of the early nights we spent together, we both had books and I read until he put a bookmark into mine and turned off the light.”

In his armchair, Nathan relaxes. He spreads out, putting his arms behind his head. “You think you’re boring, don’t you?”

Caught somewhat off guard, Jared stammers out that he is eighteen years old and can prattle on about Italian Renaissance masters given the opportunity. Yeah, he can go on about sports or trains or guns because he’s Texan, he’s not stupid. He knows who’s in the running to win the Super Bowl and if he sat down to do it, he could calculate a fairly accurate final score prediction. Every year he picks out his teams and bets against his momma—in football, basketball, and baseball. But those are fractions of himself.

“You’re not boring,” Nathan asserts and playfully kicks Jared’s foot. “Anyone who’s spent five minutes with you knows that.”

“I could be the most interesting person in the world and people would still shit all over me,” Jared mumbles bitterly, his shoulders bristling. “So what’s it matter?”

“It matters that _you_ think of yourself as worth getting to know.” Nathan hesitates for the first time. At the last second, he adds, “That you’re worth sticking around for.” He stands up and holds out a hand to Jared. “Stop debating and buy yourself all the books you want. Have them ship it to you in Miami instead of hauling it back through customs. It’ll be easier.”

The offered hand is accepted. Jared stands and gathers up his books. They walk slowly to the bank of registers towards the front. Are they for real having serious conversations? Jared does the math before he reaches the line to check out. He’s buying two hundred dollars worth of books. That’s two hundred dollars he could either send back to his mother or save to buy gas and groceries with back home. Even though it’s hard to see now, while he’s here in another country that might as well be another world, he will have to go back. He wants to go back. Right?

“I don’t know what I want,” Jared blurts out, immediately looking at Nathan, searching for an answer.

It’s not just the books.

The older man nods and places an arm around Jared’s shoulders. He gives a squeeze and guides Jared over to the next available cashier. Nathan asks if the books can be delivered to a private address in Florida instead of being purchased and taken home now. The cashier, a young lady just a few years older than Jared, nods and begins their order. She has Jared fill out two forms, swipes his AMEX gift card, and hands him a confirmation slip. The books are paid for and she assures him that they’ll be sent over with care and should arrive at about the same time he does next week.

Jensen has asked him to stop by Miami and check on the house before heading back to Austin. It seems that Jared will become familiar with air travel.

Two things don’t go into the package: the Eastwood book and the audio book. Jared saves the second book so he can give it to Jensen later. He joins Nathan near the front; it’s gotten a little darker outside from what Jared can tell. Does this mean snow?

“Can I take a picture?” Nathan asks, holding his phone up, ready for a selfie of the two of them. “I promise not to make use of it while I’m spending the night alone and unwanted.”

“Fine,” Jared sighs and rolls his eyes. “You don’t think this’ll get me into trouble, do you?” Jared follows Nathan on Twitter—the man has a sizeable following on there, at least two million.

A simple picture of them smiling and Jared holding up his shopping bag is taken. Nathan uploads it and shows Jared the caption. He’s definitely familiar with all the apps on his phone, Jared notices. The caption reads, “They let anyone purchase books these days. Thanks for the pleasant afternoon.” It’s a good picture of the two of them, taken at a slightly tilted angle. Jared laughs and takes out his phone so he can favorite and retweet. In seconds, his phone is blowing up with new notifications. Shit.

“If you live your life caring about what people are gonna give you hell for, you might as well throw in the towel. You know, if you have a towel… then you’d throw it… somewhere.” Nathan continues to text as he speaks. “I guess one good thing about all of _this_ is that if you ever want a picture of yourself, just wait twenty minutes and a new one will be up on Google.” The screen of Nathan’s phone is held up for Jared to see. True enough, TMZ already has photos and an article up of Jared’s introduction to New York style pizza. How? Jared hadn’t noticed any cameras. At a glance, the article is about how the media has more pictures of Jared with Nathan than they do of Jared and his actual fiancé. The accusation is there, even if it’s not plainly stated.

Before these thoughts can go further, Nathan holds his arms out for a hug.

“What?” Jared asks, confused and thrown off. He gives the hug but doesn’t get why. “I thought you were gonna crash the rest of my afternoon?”

“I _was_ ,” Nathan admits. “But someone got off set early and I have to turn you over to the proper authorities.” A squeeze is given to Jared’s shoulders. “You know, I think that’s what I like about this city. It’s big enough that I don’t get too bored but small enough so that I run into great people for pizza. Or… to have breakfast with a colleague a few days after I meet his fiancé in Miami.”

Just as Jared is piecing this together, there is a tap on the window from outside.

Looking like a five year old, Jensen grins and waves frantically. Nathan waves back and Jensen responds with a deadpan reaction, folding his arms over his chest. He holds the deadpan look for ten seconds before he’s smiling and shaking his fist at them.

“So, I’m gonna go try and convince a few other poor souls to join in some debauchery. Are you sure you don’t want to follow along?”

“Rain check,” Jared answers, his heart beat picking up. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Well, I’d take kisses as thanks too, but I suppose he _is_ watching.” Nathan pats Jared’s shoulder and leans in. “You’re smart, you’ll figure things out Miami. Not all at once, but you’ll get there.”

A swat to the ass is Jared’s send off from Pulpfiction Books.

Outside, he tumbles into Jensen. He takes in one deep breath as they kiss in greeting, Jensen’s hands firmly settled on his waist. Jensen smells like clean sweat and fabric softener. He has arrived directly from set. Nathan must have texted him their location.

“You got a new phone,” Jared comments, keeping his lips near Jensen’s.

“Uh huh,” is murmured to him and their hands slip together. They walk towards the car waiting a few steps down. “Some big, Canadian bird told me that you had New York style pizza. How was it?”

 

The door is held open for Jared by Jensen.

Jared gets settled and pulls Jensen in.

“You have to fold it,” he begins to explain.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation about Nathan turns into something more serious.

In the bathroom, their conversation starts.

“Jen, do you really not have a problem with me hanging out with Nathan?”

“Well, I think your choice in company could stand to learn how to text without the use of emoticons, but we’re not all perfect.”

“For real,” Jared presses. “You’re not gonna hunt him down one day and kill him just because we hung out?”

“Sweetheart, you know I wouldn’t do that. I’d only maim him a little. Just a little! Not in the face.”

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, Jensen,” Jared grumbles with a huff. They are in the room so Jensen has a chance at a shower and something to eat. There are secret plans for later, but Jared isn’t privy to know them. While Jensen is showering, Jared is perched on the sink countertop, holding a towel to hand over once Jensen is ready to get out. Their voices echo on the walls as they speak.

Snorting, Jensen replies, “Okay, okay. I get it. What do you expect me to do? You’re an adult; you’re allowed to have friends. I was glad he texted me that y’all were hangin’ out and havin’ fun. Am I supposed to be jealous?” Jensen moves around in the shower. “I’m kind of jealous that he got to spend time with you while I had to work, but hey, I get the perks of your company in other ways. Speaking of which, why aren’t you in here with me?” He slides open one of the doors and peeks out, shampoo still in his hair. “Oh, baby, don’t pout.”

Jared rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m not pouting.”

A cheeky, lazy smile appears. Damn the man. Jared undresses like getting rid of his clothes is his job. He steps into the shower and Jensen presses them together. The warmth and slickness of his skin against Jared’s cause Jared to sigh. He rests his head on Jensen’s shoulder, leaning into him as Jensen washes his hair as well. He’s already had a shower today but another can’t hurt, especially not one with Jensen.

“Tell me,” Jensen murmurs, pressing his lips to the tip of Jared’s nose, “what’s really bothering you.”

It’s not easy at first, being honest about what is rattling around in his head. He starts off with small things—how creepy the paparazzi are and how a few people on Twitter have started to accuse him of using older men for fame and attention—and means to keep it that way so he doesn’t bother Jensen. But one thing becomes another until it snowballs into what he’s going to do after Vancouver. Of course, he misses his momma and everything that’s familiar to him about Smithville. But the longer he’s here or the more he thinks about Miami, the more it becomes the background of his life.

With his head tilted back into the warm spray of water, he stops to savor the sensation of Jensen’s fingers in his hair, gently washing out shampoo. Kisses start from Jared’s chin to his throat and down to his chest.

“What’s so bad about stayin’ with me?” Texas rises above the steam. “I like you near me.”

In truth, there’s nothing terrible about staying with Jensen while he’s on set. Jared could technically go with him on set as a guest, but he’s been hesitant about doing so on this set, seeing as how frustrating it has been for Jensen overall. And, what Mrs. Ackles said about having visitors has Jared preferring to stay at the hotel, waiting for Jensen to finish instead of risking that happening.

“But…” Jared forces himself to say, trying his best to be honest now instead of worrying about it later. “Jen, I… I…” It would be tempting for many people to live this kind of life without any issue. They’d be able to make a home out of a hotel room or wait at home without a problem until Jensen could swing back in between set calls. They would have jumped at the chance to go on a promotional tour overseas with Jensen for the new movie—Rome, Paris, and London would be greeted with excitement. Maybe Jared thinks too small. He liked it well enough driving through Texas, bouncing back and forth between Dallas and Austin, with the occasional toss towards Miami. He liked that.

A kiss is planted on his mouth, slow and sweet.

He likes this. He kisses back, eyes closed, pulled away from the water.

Against his collar bone, Jensen rumbles that he gets it. “Take the boy out of Texas, but can’t take Texas out of the boy.”

Jared smiles. “It’s not just that, Jen.”

“No?”

“I wanna work. I want my own money to buy books with. I wanna know that I have my own bank account, not just yours. You work really hard to earn what you do. How can I just bum around here while you go out and bust your ass every day?” He licks a stripe of water off of Jensen’s cheek. “I also feel like I have to go back home to prove a point.”

This is where Jensen’s voice switches. His tone is harder, sharper. “You don’t have to prove a god damned thing.”

“You get upset about me going back to Texas but not me hanging out with older men,” Jared teases.

With a snort, Jensen wraps an arm around Jared’s waist and pulls him in. They aren’t under the showerhead, just next to it. Jensen is slick and squishy, and his hair is half sticking up and half messily plastered over his forehead. It isn’t Jared’s fault that Jensen’s lips also look a little softer, slightly fuller in the steam of their shower. “Call me crazy,” Jensen breathes, easing his tone, pressing their hips together, “but I trust you. I’m not sure why I do, you’re a fuckin’ tease. Look at you, Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

“Yeah?” He can’t help the excitement in his voice. Still, he realizes that they’ll never reach a conclusion to anything if they keep getting distracted with sex. It physically hurts Jared to pause what they’re about to do—he isn’t sure what Jensen has in mind but whatever it is, he’s up for it—but it’s necessary for their relationship. This is being an adult, right? He clears his throat and places an inch of space between them. “Jen, I don’t know what I want to do.”

Green eyes snap to attention, even if the hands that belong to them remain in dangerous places. Jared doesn’t understand why some of the movies and shows Jensen has been in cover up his freckles.

“Jay, you are eighteen years old,” Jensen says, using his professional voice, the one that Jared hears him speak to his agent with. “You are not supposed to know what you want to do—now or for the rest of your life.”

“ _You_ knew,” Jared blurts out, frowning. They are starting to get wrinkly. “You knew what you wanted to do and you went out and did it.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Really? You think that’s really how it worked? I was desperate to get out, Jay. The first offer I got, I took, and it was nothing glamorous.” With one hand, Jensen shuts off the water, but he keeps his arm around Jared’s waist as they stand in the shower. Upset by the memory, Jensen frowns. “I was your age and I thought… after a few years of modeling as a teenager and some small parts, you know, I thought I knew everything about the business. But there’s a big difference between being on set as a minor and being on set as someone barely legal.” He takes in a sharp breath. “Anyway, Jay, no one is rushing you to make any huge decision.” A squeeze is given to Jared’s ass before Jensen steps out. “But I don’t want you staying in Texas if it’s a safety issue.”

The tiles in the bathroom are heated. Jared doesn’t quite know how they turn on—there must be sensors. One fluffy towel is passed over to Jared. He starts drying off but his eyes wander and his hands slow. Focus. Don’t get distracted by Jensen’s lean, tight form steps away from him. Don’t get distracted by the curve of Jensen’s ass, outlined by the towel, or the bounce of it as he dries off.

“People like to focus on something they find scandalous for a while—they fixate,” Jensen continues, oblivious to Jared’s eyes. “Personally, Jay? I want you anywhere but there for six months. Give them a chance to get on with their lives.” Even while distracted, Jared is aware that Jensen is holding back with his comments about Smithville and its residents. “Jay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles and tears his eyes away from Jensen. He towels off his hair first, speaking at the same time. “I guess.”

A few swipes with a comb and Jensen’s hair is perfectly styled. The same cannot be said for Jared’s messy mop, which Jensen tackles himself, getting out any knots. Jared has to lean down a little for Jensen to comb properly, something that amuses him. One of the things he’ll never get enough of is the feeling of Jensen’s hands in his hair. “Jared? Can I ask you something?”

“Mmhmm.”

“If I…” The comb slows and Jensen’s voice softens. “If I took some time off and I wanted to spend it together in LA or Miami… would you join me?”

“What about work?”

“Pre-production for the new film doesn’t start until July. I finish promotion for this one mid-February, then I have two episodes on a show to do at the end of February.” He lists these things off like they’re grocery items. “In March I have to go to Vegas for a convention, and for a weekend in May there’s a convention in Chicago. There are photo shoots and interviews along the way, plus some recording stuff I’ve been meaning to get around to doing, so LA would be great to stay in. I haven’t taken you over there yet. You’d like it.” Jensen presses a kiss to the top of Jared’s head. “I got a basketball hoop over the garage.”

“I’d kick your ass at basketball.”

“Not the way I play basketball.”

They stand in the middle of the bathroom for a moment before Jensen grabs Jared’s hand and pulls them out to the bedroom. The bed has been made since Jared left the room earlier. He spends two seconds being embarrassed about the state of their sheets this morning before he is shoved down, pressed into the mattress. From the shower, Jensen is all warmth. Their cocks bump together. Jared whines.

“Would you?” Jensen asks again, pushing his hips down. “If I took time off… from anything major for a few months?”

Pushing out air from his lungs, Jared shudders. This view. If he had a million dollars, he’d pay a million dollars for this view. Careful fingers trace Jared’s nipples, neither being too rough or too light in their touch. This isn’t fair.

“I… my… what about my job?”

“Leave of absence?”

“Six… six months is more than a leave of absence…” Jared pushes his hips up to meet the languid grind of Jensen’s.

“Don’t work?”

“I’d have no money,” Jared replies a little too quickly. “Jen, I help my mom out with the mortgage and utilities. She… she counts on the money I give her every month.”

“So… uhm…what if I bought your house?”

“No,” Jared snaps and stills his hips. “I… you don’t mean that.”

All movement is halted. Jensen moves off of Jared to sit beside him. He avoids looking at Jared for a few seconds before he finally admits that he has thought about the idea a few times before. It would solve so many issues—Sherri wouldn’t have to work so hard and Jared wouldn’t feel obligated to help her.

“She is my _mother_. I don’t feel _obligated_ to help her; this… this is what kids should do for their parents. That’s why I deferred college. I put my life on hold so I could pitch in and help her because that’s what you do. But I don’t wanna put my life on hold so I can live in a mansion that’s yours and eat food that you bought and go to places because your work takes you there.” With every word, Jared gets increasingly agitated. He sits up, turning so that his legs are over the edge of the bed. “I thought… I thought you learned something from last night. You can’t throw money at stuff and make everything magically better. That’s not how my life works.”

A hand is placed on Jared’s right shoulder. “Hey,” Jensen starts, “calm down.”

“You just offered to buy our house like it’s a pack of gum!” Jared huffs and scoots off the bed to stand up. He can’t stay still. He also can’t believe that they’re arguing now, when a few minutes ago they were about to have sex and forget about the world for a while.

Keeping his voice steady, Jensen affirms, “That is _not_ what I meant and you know it. You have also got to know that yes, I have money. No amount of wishing is going to make it go away. I know it makes you uncomfortable but it’s there, Jay. It’s gonna be there and I think that’s something _you_ need to deal with. Just like yeah, I have to deal with you not having money.”

Jared follows what Jensen is saying up until those last few words. His mouth hangs open in shock. Jensen stares at him like he’s just been caught sneaking cookies before dinner. If Jared can get undressed in five seconds flat, he can get dressed in half that. He stumbles to shove and pull his clothes on—Jensen stumbles to follow after him, pleading that he didn’t mean it that way, that he’s sorry, that he has no idea how his brain fucked up what he meant to say.

“Stop,” Jared mutters, on his way towards the door. “Whatever you meant, I just need some space.”

“I get it, I know,” is sputtered as Jensen fails at putting on his robe. “But, Jay, please… don’t.”

Bristling, and opening the door, Jared snips, “Don’t _what_?”

“Don’t…” Jensen’s voice drops to a murmur. “Don’t walk away from me. Not like this.”

Two steps out of the door and into the hallway, Jared stops on a dime. He turns around. This isn’t them. What the fuck just happened? Is this their first actual fight? Holy shit. For all the pretty, eloquent things that Jensen has said on screen, he is definitely capable of saying the wrong thing. He is not immune to mangling his words or to being stubborn. He can get carried away with shit and press on a subject despite all warnings to stop talking and let it go.

He can also stand in the doorway of a hotel room, as naked as the day he was born, looking completely afraid that Jared is going to ignore him and leave.

In turn, Jared is definitely capable of letting his emotions get the best of him. He can get defensive in zero to thirty seconds. And of course, he’s more likely to run from the conflict than he is to stay and face it because… well, it’s easier that way.

“Jen?” he asks, his voice turned into water now.

“Yeah?”

“Would you run after me?”

“Yes.”

“All the way?”

“Always.”

Down the hall, Jared hears one of the elevators open. Jensen has to hear it too, but he doesn’t move. He stands there, waiting to see what Jared does. “Can I come in?” Jared asks with a sniffle. “Jen, can I come in and can we not talk for a while?” Jared clarifies when he sees the panic in Jensen’s expression. “Can… can we just watch a movie?”

“You don’t have to ask, Jay. This is your place too.”

“But I’m asking anyway.” I’m sorry.

“Can I choose the movie?” I’m sorry, too.

“Yes.”

“Jay, I’m naked.”

“I know,” Jared says with a small laugh. “It’s kind of funny.”

“Next time we fight, _you_ get to be naked.”

“I don’t want a next time,” is admitted with a sigh before he steps forward, towards the door.

One hand, a hand that is covered in fine blond hairs and dusted with freckles, reaches out for one of Jared’s. Their fingers lace together easily. Jared takes another step and shuts the door behind him.

That was close.

“We’re gonna fight,” Jensen says, honestly and visibly relieved, “but I promise, we’re also gonna work shit out, come hell or high water.” He squeezes Jared’s hand.

 

Unsurprisingly, Jensen puts on _The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly._


	25. Chapter 25

Eleven o’clock finds Jared standing outside a club. It’s inconspicuous from the outside—it doesn’t even have a name out front—but he can feel the music through the sidewalk. It’s going to be loud.

“You ready?” Jensen asks, grinning like a kid. “Jay?”

Sizing up the place, breathing in and out, Jared nods. He can do this. “Yes.”

 

This is nothing like the bar outside of Dallas. Even the floors are different. Cowboy hats are nowhere to be seen but skin is everywhere. It may be winter, but no one here could give an accurate weather report.

Clever slits, intriguing lace, strategically placed rips… people are here to see and be seen. Never mind the snow or the near-zero temperature outside—within a minute inside the club there is all the warmth and heat to be had. Jared would feel more out of place if he had worn his own clothes. But he discovered a secret about movie sets—make good friends with the costume and wardrobe department.

Measurements Jared didn’t even know he had were somehow relayed to Chrissy and Yumi, Jensen’s cohorts in crime, and the closest matches were selected. As he follows Jensen through the first crowd of people, he doesn’t feel the usual tightness in his shoulders from his dress shirt like he normally would. Jensen calls it a perfect fit. It’s a designer name Jared has never heard of.

In the hotel, as they were getting dressed, Jensen walked over and began to do his usual primping and fussing over Jared. First, he styled Jared’s hair with product that smells like cherries and swept it to the side and back. Jensen had explained that in his early days of modeling, before all the assistants and stylists, he was left to his own devices and it was sink or swim. Years of sitting in front of a mirror at five in the morning have not been wasted on him. He finished Jared’s hair, then moved onto the clothes Jared had slipped into. Apparently, getting dressed is more complicated than putting the clothes on. His sleeves were rolled up and precisely four buttons were undone. No undershirt, Jensen explained when Jared asked, this kind of outfit doesn’t need it. After that, Jensen knelt down and fixed the bottom of the jeans he had wrestled Jared into. Jeans cuffed, Jared was declared ready to strut.

Strutting is difficult in skinny jeans. Jared clings onto Jensen’s hand, trying not to get lost. He may have the right clothes on, but small-town-Texas-boy might as well be plastered on his forehead. He’s never seen so many people trace the line between having clothes on and being completely naked. A few people—men included—pull off the look better than others. His date happens to be one of them.

Jared’s shirt is black, with the thinnest of silver pinstripes. The tortuous skinny jeans are dark blue, nearly black, with bright silver stitching up the sides and on the back pockets. He refused to wear the slim black belt Jensen chose; it’s his own belt and buckle or nothing. When they pause, letting others through, Jensen’s fingers tap on the buckle. See, Jared wants to say, it’s good for something.

On the flipside, Jensen is wearing a shirt the color of dark red wine. It’s shimmery and manages to be tight on his shoulders but loose near his chest, where he has left two buttons undone. Jared had asked what the difference was and Jensen just laughed that it was youth. Four buttons at his age? Fuck no. There are some things about fashion that Jared will never understand. But it’s the charcoal pants that Jensen decided on that are the killer—the main event. They aren’t skinny jeans but they are fitted. God bless the tailor. God bless Chrissy and Yumi. God bless everyone, Jared thinks, his eyes wandering once again.

Choosing to keep it simple, Jared declined accessories. Jensen is wearing a watch like usual, but he switched them out. This one, which Jared keeps thrumming his fingers against, is thicker, showing off the muscular form of his arm. Jet black, it is as well fitting to him as the rest of what he has on. It also took Jensen two seconds to style his hair but it still looks worthy of a photo shoot. In another life, Jensen must have been a stylist. He joked that to him on the car ride here—limo again; Jared didn’t fight it—and was kissed just so he would shut up.

“Drinks?” Jensen shouts as they reach the bar.

“Yeah,” Jared shouts back, leaning on the counter, squeezed against Jensen. “Beer?”

A freckled nose scrunches at the mention of their usual drink. “No, baby,” Jensen laughs, one hand on the small of Jared’s back and the other signaling one of three bartenders. “Not tonight.”

Anticipating a night where he might not remember anything the next day, as they wait for what Jensen orders, Jared looks around. He finds the emergency exit because he likes to be prepared. There are deeply nerdy, geeky, worry-wart sides of him that Jensen does not need to see. Finding emergency exits in crowded buildings is one of them. Satisfied with his find, his eyes scan the rest of the club. The layout is simple enough—the dance floor is the largest section, with booths and tables surrounding its perimeter. An upstairs, VIP lounge has balconies overlooking everything, with its own private bar. Columns of marble, granite accents, and crystal hanging lights make the entire club shimmer beyond the strobe lights. The club manages to maintain modern simplicity with luxurious details. Light radiates from the two bars on the bottom floor, but save for the strobe lights, the club is kept dark.

It’s a salsa club.

And Jared is being passed three shots of tequila by his date, who has already downed his.

When in Rome…

 

Growing up in Texas means that Jared has a good handle on Spanish. Well, he can pick up words here and there, but he can’t for the life of him actually form a cohesive, grammatically correct sentence. His grasp of the language is totally gringo, but he understands more than people would think. He’s always been good at new languages.

It comes in handy when they leave the bar and step out onto the dance floor.

At first, Jared is overwhelmed—floored by the high-end tequila, the squeeze of lime, and the kiss Jensen gave him right after he swallowed. Jensen’s hands on his face, their hips crushed together, oh, Jared knew he was in trouble. Way in over his head. Dancing does not make it better, because even after the tequila hits his system, he knows he is not of this dancing world. But what the fuck? Jensen is every bit as white boy Texan as he is and somehow… that fucker’s hips and feet and lean, long legs move to the rhythm of the song playing, not against it.

Before Jared can get too frustrated, Jensen pulls them in close, never stopping his movements, just slowing them down. “Loosen up,” he purrs into Jared’s ear. “Stop thinking—just do it.”

Those words may or may not have been a little slurred.

Fine. He can do this. He can dance merengue and salsa and cumbia—words he’s picked up from the grocery store, the radio, and his friends in high school—because obviously, being in Vancouver gives him the power to do anything. He can meet Nathan Fillion for lunch like they’re old friends and he can ride around in a limo like a superstar and he can show Jensen Ackles a damn good night out.

Stop thinking. Check.

Jared takes cues from Jensen and the other people dancing around them. He lifts his arms and closes his eyes and pretends like he’s been doing this for years. The DJ blends a more traditional track into a something with a house beat and hip-hop lyrics. Rhythm in all these songs is faster than any country song, demanding continuous movement from its dancers. But it also commands that partners work together, and before Jared knows it, he’s being spun around, held close, and ground against by his.

Up, up, up the rhythm accelerates. Heels and boots stomp on the floor. People call out—¡Suavemente!—and sweat mixes in with liquor and perfume and cologne and rushed, sloppy kisses. A classic, judging by the audience response, comes on and the floor picks up, people who weren’t dancing before joining in. A surge of energy is shared from couple to couple—person to person. This song isn’t as fast-paced as the last, but the dips in tempo allow for hips to press in closer, and the trumpet is stronger. Around and around, Jared laughs as he’s spun, holding onto Jensen’s sweaty palms, snorting when Jensen gets showy and dips him back. Their feet lift up and they step side to side, front to back, and the song blends again.

Somehow, they end up in the middle of the dance floor, square under a set of lights, sharing the space with a hundred other couples. The DJ switches songs abruptly and Jensen’s eyes light up. He points to the ceiling, signifying, Jared assumes, that this is _the_ song.

It starts with a dramatic thrum of a guitar, followed by a loud, drawn out first line sung by a singer Jared faintly recognizes. That is the one slow part of the song before the music thrusts everyone into a wave of celebration. Jared bounces along, grinning so much it hurts to stop. They’re both breathing hard but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters except for Jensen pushing them closer and his hands wandering despite the quick tempo. Everyone rolls and swells with the singer’s voice. Rising and falling, the crowd instinctively slows down during the break. The break is meant to reconnect. Jared’s eyes meet Jensen’s as they push apart, their hips swinging, and when the beat picks up again, their hips turn together.

Nose to nose, they spin over and over. Jensen is sweating beads, his tongue sticking out as he’s grinning, and the crinkles around his eyes are more apparent. His hair is no longer perfect and neither is Jared’s. The hot huff of his breath curls over Jared’s lips; Jared seals their mouths together and moans when he feels Jensen’s hand on his ass again, where it belongs.

One final chorus of this song plays louder. The strobe lights flash. Jared can feel the muscles in his legs burn from the exertion and his chest rises faster. In the final thirty seconds, everyone’s dancing accelerates. Jensen turns him. The song ends with five solid beats and the strum of a guitar. Jared is kissed and his hips are ground into. He relaxes, closes, his eyes, and pulls them so that not an inch is between them from foot to forehead. His hands start out framing Jensen’s jaw line, but when the kiss deepens and his mouth is forced open wider, his fingers press into the meat of Jensen’s ass.

Holy shit.

Anticipating a heart attack if they continue without a drink of water, Jared wrenches his date off the dance floor for a break. Five minutes later, after downing a bottle of water and another two shots each, they end up stumbling into one of the empty booths and making out. The only thing that stops either of them from doing anything more exciting is the lack of space. People who are six feet plus cannot have public sex in a small, awkwardly shaped booth. Jared tries to wriggle and contort himself to make something happen but his movements are not quite elegant. They settle for kisses that match whatever song plays until Jensen drags them out of the booth and back onto the dance floor.

No one is drunk enough to not recognize the Ricky Martin song that comes on.

Jared discovers that Jensen knows every single word to Shake Your Bon Bon. “Don’t say no no shakin’ my way oh,” Jensen croons, his thumbs hooked into Jared’s belt loops.

“No,” Jared cackles, trying to get away from Jensen’s awful singing. “Oh god, no.”

Insistent and making a duck face, Jensen crosses the line from playfully drunk to fucking silly. When She Bangs starts to play, Jensen knows all of _those_ words too. Jared humors him.

“I’ll let her rough me up…” he starts.

“Til she knocks me out…” Jensen continues, elated.

“She walks like, she talks like, she talks like she walks…”

“She bangs! She bangs! Ooh baby, when she moves, she moves!” Broad shoulders are being moved half comically, half in rhythm with the song. Jared laughs so hard, he spurs Jensen on, listening to, “I’ll do the time with a smile on my face—thinking of her in her leather and lace!” A generous slap to Jared’s ass tells him that Jensen is definitely thinking of his Christmas present.

Three more Ricky Martin songs, another bottle of water, and it’s three in the morning.

Necessity pulls them out of the club, both of them hesitant to leave. The limo has pulled up and is waiting to take them back to the hotel. Jensen has a set call at noon—thank fucking god—but he has an event afterwards. Jared isn’t clear on the details but Jensen seemed to be excited about it earlier.

“My god…” Jared hears someone gasp. “It’s… Mara, that’s Jensen Ackles!”

“Shut up! You’re fuckin’ wasted.”

“Fuck you—I am _not_! That’s him!” Two women, wearing as little as anyone inside, move over quick. Jared tenses but he doesn’t feel the same response from Jensen. Someone is playing music from a boom box outside of the club. About ten other people are standing outside, waiting for rides, taking a smoke break, milling around. Jensen waves to the women and obliges them when they ask for autographs.

“Would it be stupid to ask for your autograph on my boob?” one with red hair asks, pulling down the front of her dress in eagerness. Before Jensen can respond, her girlfriend smacks her. Full on smacks her and starts screeching, “Dumb ass! That’s his… his _fiancé_ right next to him! Hi! Sorry about my stupid ass friend.” She waves to Jared, the bracelets on her arm jingling, and turns back to Jensen. “Can you make it out to Tammy? With a y?” Her friend rubs her cheek and murmurs an apology to Jensen and Jared. She gets an autograph on a cocktail napkin she procures from her sequined wristlet.

At three in the morning, the street is mostly empty. The air is clear and crisp and Jared doesn’t feel the bite of the chill yet. The women bring over a few of their friends and Jensen signs a few more autographs. He gets into the spirit of things, laughing with his fans, shaking hands, and politely declining pictures. Of course, he introduces Jared, and Jared finds himself being asked for _his_ autograph.

Hesitantly, he signs what people give him. Tammy thanks him several times, congratulating them over their engagement. She isn’t as drunk as her friend. “Your engagement photos were beautiful,” she adds, tucking away her autographs. “You two… oh god… I’m gonna cry.”

Someone asks for a dance. A young man, in his mid-twenties, shouts for the guy with the boom box to turn it up. Soon enough, the crowd is pleading for one dance with Jensen. Just one. Pretty please? Looking over at Jared, Jensen smiles and shrugs. Oh yeah. Definitely still silly drunk. Jared shakes his head and laughs, stepping aside so that Jensen can do his thing. Jensen agrees, but he wants to choose the song. He shakes boom box guy’s hand and glances at a few CDs before selecting one. The crowd gathers in a circle around Jensen. Jared stands in front, listening to Jensen when he asks for everyone to put away their phones. Dutifully, everyone does. Boom box guy presses play.

It’s not a Ricky Martin song. It’s definitely not more merengue or cumbia or salsa. Boom box guy has a limited selection, it seems.

The song is Can’t Believe It, by Flo Rida. Jared knows it. He’s heard it on the radio.

How the hell he got from listening to it on the radio in Smithville to listening to it being played on a boom box on the streets of downtown Vancouver at three in the morning, he’ll never know. Plus, not only is it being played, it is being danced to by none other than Jensen Ackles. Goofy, and tipsy, and completely gone—Jensen moves his hips in circles to start. The crowd cheers. Jared laughs, clapping on, noticing that Jensen knows all the words to this song as well. He’s full of surprises this evening—cheesy, terrible surprises.

As the song picks up, Jensen keeps his hips moving but starts to extend his arms, moving them in rhythm. He stays in one place, at risk of toppling over if he moves, but he starts to switch up the way he moves his hips. Side to side, around and around, back to front. Proudly, he raises one hand; his entire body remains tight and focused. He works his hips wider and pushes his legs apart. Flo Rida flows through the speakers, “My, my, my vanilla Cinderella loves when I tell her drop it.”

Alcohol fuels the pop and drop Jensen pulls off without a hitch.

 

They don’t get back to the hotel until four.

And they don’t sleep until six.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning is not pretty; it is decided that Jared should steer clear of tequila. Jensen's schedule changes at the last minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh thank you for your patience! i've been recharging my writing batteries for a bit. finally, you get an extra long update to this fic. :D
> 
> i LOVE exposing and exploring the not so romantic things about having sex/drunk sex. XD so even though it's gross (i agree with jared here), it's realistic and that's what i love about it. sometimes i'll gloss over things just for flow, but i love moments like these where i get to be real.
> 
> jensen is pretty much the best fiance ever--yes? 
> 
> headed into a fun arc! :D
> 
> if you were at a convention, and you got to meet Jensen from this verse, what would you ask him? let me know in the comments. :) enjoy!

There is a voice above Jared, in the atmosphere, telling him ridiculous things. Wake up. Wake up? Why?

Screw that. He doesn’t have school today.

The voice shifts from one ear to the other, relentless in its harassment. Venturing out from his burrito of blankets and pillows, Jared smacks the source of the voice, which yips in response. Serves it right. Whatever time it is, it’s too fucking early. There is a pounding in Jared’s head and a sour feeling in the back of his throat. But he can ignore it if he’s sleeping. When the voice tries again—louder this time—Jared reaches the end of his patience. He kicks, hits something, and burrows deeper. That should do it.

“I will pour water all over this bed, so help me,” the voice growls. “Jared, get up!”

A hiss is emitted when the protective layers of blankets are peeled away from his head.

Lips press themselves to the back of his neck. Jared has no time to react before a loud, wet raspberry is planted there. “Gross!” Jared groans, flailing and shoving Jensen off of him. “Jen! There’s spit in my hair!”

The bed creaks as Jensen climbs off the bed, satisfied with his work. “There’s a lot more than that on your face, sweetheart. Get up.”

Touching his face, Jared lets out a screech. He twists and turns in his nest of blankets, scrambling for the bathroom. This is the not so glamorous side of having drunk sex. “Why didn’t you clean me up?! Oh god, this is gross. Ew, ew, ew…”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Jensen says with a smug look. “Maybe it’s moisturizing.”

“There is _dry_ come all over my face,” Jared snaps, turning the faucet on full blast. Just as he starts to scrub, his stomach lurches. “Oh god.” He braces himself on the countertop, hunched over. Just as Jensen walks into the bathroom, Jared turns to the sink and starts to use it for a completely different purpose. Heaving and hacking, he starts to cry. Ten minutes ago, he was warm and comfortable in bed, with not a care in the world. Now, he is a mess of snot, tears, vomit, and oh god, the aftermath of a blow job given hours ago.

Thick fingers wrangle pieces of Jared’s hair and pull them together, holding them back. With his other hand, Jensen rubs circles on Jared’s back. Jared starts crying in gratitude and embarrassment. This is the worst. What is coming up sure ain’t pretty and a glance in the mirror proves that he isn’t a spring chicken either. He cries harder when he notices that Jensen is all dressed up.

“Shh,” Jensen murmurs, patting Jared’s shoulders. “Easy, baby. Take it easy. Let it out.”

No. No one can be this calm during a catastrophe like this. Jared wants to crawl away and hide deep within the center of the earth. And there is absolutely no way he is overreacting at all. He is about to remind Jensen what he’s gotten himself into by asking Jared to marry him, when his stomach does a sommersault. What happens afterwards is a tragedy, a crime against the laws of nature. Before they went to bed, Jensen made him eat something greasy. It’s all fighting its way back up, until Jared is left a trembling, rotten husk.

Strong arms wrap themselves around Jared’s chest. Jared squeaks. He is hauled over from the sink to the shower. Jensen manages to balance Jared, open the door, and pull them both in. Jared sits on the shower floor, dizzy and out of it, watching Jensen undress. In ten seconds, the man goes from movie star ready to completely naked and knelt down under a spray of warm water. A washcloth is gently swiped at Jared’s face, bringing him immediate relief. As the steam gathers, Jensen pushes a travel sized bottle of mouthwash against Jared’s lips. “Swish, don’t swallow,” he instructs and reaches over to the nearest ledge, where Jensen keeps a few bottles of shampoo and body wash. Jared doesn’t snap back that he knows what to do with mouthwash; he’s too grateful.

Finished with the mouthwash, he spits into the drain and Jensen starts to wash his hair, ten times as careful as he normally would be. He must know the headache Jared is battling.

“I passed out before I could clean up,” Jensen apologizes quietly. “When I got up, you were out cold. I didn’t want to wake you up. But then I got this phone call and my plans for today changed at the last second.” He tilts Jared’s head back, using the detachable showerhead now, and rinses out every last trace of shampoo. “So, I think no more tequila for you. At least for a little while.”

The smile Jared receives when he opens his eyes causes something to squeeze in his chest. Despite the general awful feeling weighing him down, he reaches forward and embraces them tightly, their skin smacking together from the water.

“Thank you,” he sniffs appreciatively. “I… just… thank you.”

A reassuring kiss is pecked onto Jared’s cheek. Jensen puts an inch between them, looking at Jared, water and steam all around them. Jensen’s hair is flat against his forehead; Jared’s is hanging in limp noodles. “You’re welcome. That’s kind of what I’m here for.”

Jared scrunches his nose. “No it’s not. You’re not here to clean up my puke.”

“Well, okay, that’s true to an extent,” Jensen concedes with a small laugh. “But I’m still serious about the rest. If you get sick, I’m here to take care of you. If you’re hung over and need someone to hold back your hair, I’m your guy. If you’ve got come on your face, I’m your man. Well, okay, I hope I _was_ your man… you know… throughout that entire process…”

It seems to Jared that the goal of that speech was to get him to smile; it works.

After they step out of the shower, Jensen wraps Jared up in one of the larger towels. This is a man who doesn’t fear puke, hangovers, Jared in the morning with one, or the smell in the bathroom after. This is a man who stands square in front of Jared and looks him in the eyes and says, with all the confidence in the world, “I’m gonna marry the _fuck_ out of you, Jay. Just you wait.”

If anyone asks Jared, this relationship is pretty damn awesome.

 

Conventions from the flipside are entirely different.

Everything is smaller and quieter. Volunteers don’t break out into screams when they look at Jensen; they look at him like a guy who is doing is job. The easier he makes their job, the easier they will make his. Quite a few of the volunteers are folks who Jensen recognizes from previous events. He asks them about their families, about their winter in Vancouver, about this and that as he is guided to and from places. Jensen is good with faces and names; he always has been and it’s a skill that comes in handy in this business.

There are no lines to wait in for hours, no need to utilize the hotel’s wi-fi, and no worry about transportation to and from the hotel. For safety, the hotel hosting the convention is four blocks away from any hotel actors are staying at. This is the way it’s always done, Jensen explains to Jared as they wind through hallways in the back of house part of the hotel. A black, unmarked SUV brought them here from their hotel. Mario met them in the lobby before they left and passed Jensen an envelope before holding open the door for their departure. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, so Jared didn’t ask.

When Jensen was younger, he would stay with friends in the area instead of hotels to keep a semblance of home.  Every now and then, he’ll crash with a few of his older friends, people Jared hasn’t met… yet. Jensen promised they’d fix that as soon as his schedule let up. Now, inside the hotel, Jensen’s mind has taken a different trajectory. “I’ve been thinking about buying something out here,” he admits, and slips his right hand into Jared’s left. “Nothing big or fancy. Maybe an apartment. It’s close to a ton of sets and it’d save a lot of time in the air. What do you think?”

Hesitant to speak of money and property, Jared yields that the decision is up to Jensen. Who wouldn’t want to be closer to work? It makes sense. Most days, Jared can walk to work.

“You’d be here _with_ me, dork,” Jensen adds, squeezing Jared’s hand. “Buying means we would alternate spending time here between LA, Miami, and Texas.”

“You wanna buy something in Texas?”

“Not really,” is replied honestly. They step into an elevator, escorted by a volunteer. Their hands separate, but Jensen maintains one on the small of Jared’s back at all times. “I just meant to visit your mom. You know, I figure she might want to spend some time with you.”

Glancing over, Jared tosses Jensen a knowing, but proud smile. “She threatened you, didn’t she?”

“Yep.”

Jared smiles and shakes his head. Momma. The volunteer that’s with them is Owen, a man of about thirty, and he’s busy relaying messages on his headset, snapping at someone to prepare the ballroom for gold ticket guests. This is a convention that Jensen was invited to at the very last minute, for a television show he has been on as a guest star for about three years now. The studio thinks it’s an event that merits clearing Jensen’s entire schedule for the day, pushing back set time another day. To Jensen, the change in plans is welcomed. He enjoys doing these kinds of appearances. He gets to sit with dedicated fans for a panel, and then he’ll sign autographs for two hours after. They’ll have the rest of the afternoon and evening to themselves.

Although this convention isn’t specifically for the movie, the studio will be sending over free merchandise for everyone who attends the panel Jensen will be part of. Jensen snagged a set of the swag for Jared, laughing that he better not ask for an autograph. It’s basic con stuff, Jared announced as he was going through it in the lobby of this hotel—a basic tote bag with Jensen and his co-star’s face on it and the name of the movie, plus the US release date underneath. Inside, were a rubber wristband, and a postcard with more faces and dates. Jared carries it in his arms, happy to have gotten one of the first bags.

Jensen’s loyal fanbase is critical to the success of this movie. They will fill seats for the movie’s premiere weekend, and for weeks after; or so the studio hopes. They’ll also encourage their friends to come with them or go see the movie themselves. There is no better marketing tool than a consumer’s recommendation. The studio is aware of this. Of course, if Jared wasn’t engaged to the star of it, he’d already have his reserved ticket to the big movie theater in Austin.

An appearance here at the convention will help remind Jensen’s fans that he’s got a new movie coming out. Someone from the studio gave Jensen an index card of things to say, but Jensen left it on the dresser in their room. This isn’t his first rodeo. He’s done this long enough, he has the small talk down pat, and he knows how to promote his projects without crowing about them. Down another long hallway, the two of them follow Owen, trailing behind just a few steps.

Leaning in towards Jensen, Jared says, “If I said I wanted a home in Texas, what would you do? Hypothetically.” He adds that last part as a signal that this isn’t a lead to start an argument.

 “I’d buy you a home in Texas. Hypothetically,” Jensen answers with a firm nod. “Yep. Anywhere in Texas.” The scenery around them starts to change. Instead of getting bigger, the hotel gets smaller. Jared is used to ballrooms packed with seats. He’s used to being in awe at the massive stage in the front, and at all the lucky people who can afford to sit in the first twenty rows. From this perspective, it looks kind of like they’re backstage at a play. Quiet slips away as they approach a row of dressing rooms. Jared can already hear the familiar sounds of people chatting in their seats, passing the time. Excitement creeps up on him.

“Okay,” Jared breathes out and slows them down. “But what would I give you?”

Jensen stops them completely. He turns and pokes Jared in the middle of his chest. “Your company, _duh_.”

None of this is any clearer to Jared than it was twelve hours ago. This time, however, he doesn’t feel as tense. It helps that this is all hypothetical. From a few feet away, the volunteer clears his throat to get Jensen’s attention. “Mr. Ackles? Excuse me, but they’re asking for you in wardrobe.” A motion is made to the most chaotic part of backstage, on the other side of where they’ve entered.

 “What? What I got on isn’t up to snuff?”

“They like having options,” Owen replies with a polite smile. “Shall we?”

And with that, they are separated—Jensen pulled towards wardrobe and Jared free to wander. Not wanting to embarrass Jensen in front of anyone, Jared hesitates and doesn’t kiss or hug him as they part. It feels awkward.  He watches Jensen walk away, studies the swing of his legs, and wishes that he had been paying attention to the layout of the hotel. What’s he supposed to do now?

Only a few moments of standing around looking completely lost pass by. A woman who is just as tall as Jared is, marches up to him and holds out her hand. Jared takes it, shaking hesitantly. She has strawberry pink hair, dark skin, blue eyes, and bright red lips. Her outfit is entirely black, save for one small pink accent on her skirt. “You’re Jared, aren’t you?” Before Jared can reply, she continues, “Well, Mr. Ackles requested for me to show you around this place. I’m Deanna. Now, I know backstage doesn’t look like much right now…” she digs around in her black messenger bag and pulls out a badge that has Jared’s name on it already. “That’s yours. Anyway, it’s not much _now_ , but you’ll have the best seat in the house during the actual show. We have half an hour before Mr. Ackles goes on stage. Wanna follow me?”

Well, what has he got to lose?

“Yes, thank you,” he replies, and slips his badge on, flipping it right side up.

Deanna gives him a thumbs up. “Not a problem, Jared. Let’s hit up the dealer’s room first.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's convention time for both Jared and Jensen. But there might be something more that Jared would trade being backstage for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU all so much for your patience AND for your help getting my new tablet. This is my first upload from it! :D 
> 
> A few things to note here--I personally always want to ask personal questions at cons. I want to, I can't help wanting to ask J2 what their favorite breakfast is or what they have planned to do after the con. But I don't ask because I know it's not the time or place to do that. I wouldn't intrude on their privacy that way. There are some people who manage to ask personal questions well, which I've tried to show here, but they are few and far between. I haven't seen anything incredibly problematic at Chicon; fingers crossed for this year. 
> 
> Second, if you've never been to a J2 panel, it is LOUD. Third, Matt Cohen is one of the best panelists ever because he answers efficiently and walks throughout the room so everyone can get to see him, not just folks up front. Him and Richard Speight Jr. Do a fantastic job. J2 are also equally hilarious, but they don't walk around for obvious reasons. 
> 
> Fourth, I really tried to capture the emotions of being at a con. It's so exciting! Not only do you get to see people you admire, but you get to be in the company of other fans. :D
> 
> Okay, go read and bask in this long, long update. <3 Thanks again for sticking with me and being so awesome and supporting my writing. <3333 (Patience with me while I switch from netbook to tablet, thank you!)
> 
> Oh god, also, the first time i tried to upload this, i realized that this chapter was 5k. frack. i've split it into two. o_o

There are fifteen hundred people in the audience today. One thousand five hundred people scream when Matt Cohen takes the stage and begins the panel. The chattering of those fifteen hundred individuals transforms into deafening screams and applause. At long last: the panel has started.

Jared watches from backstage, unable to sit still in his seat, gripping onto one of the shirts he was given at the dealer’s room. Walking in there was like walking into a candy store; his wallet lurched at the sight of so much merch. This convention is just as big as the one Jared attended in Dallas, but the dealer’s room is twice as large. Table by table, booth by booth, he was recognized immediately as Jensen’s fiancé and given armfuls of promotional items and swag. Jared wants nothing more than to curl up on his hoard of swag and threaten anyone who dares come near it. He is the fanboy version of Smaug—the great and terrible Jared.

Of course, who can focus on swag when there’s a panel underway and Jared doesn’t just have a front row seat—he is back-freaking-stage. Deanna relayed to him that the convention people want to make Jensen happy—keeping their talent happy is the number one priority—so taking care of Jared is critical. Jared is sat down in a plush seating area all by himself, surrounded by snacks and beverages, while he gets to watch Matt on stage working the crowd. If it turns out that he died at the con in Dallas last year and this has all been some wonderful dream, Jared is completely okay with that.

The excitement backstage is addictive. Everyone is on. The responses from the audience whenever Matt jokes or moves a little closer towards them buoys the crew. There are dozens of people working behind the curtain, working the lights, the sound, the set up, and a hundred other things Jared can’t keep track of. Any lingering hangover is pushed aside and forgotten. Jared bites on his bottom lip and tries not to laugh as he watches Jensen emerge from the opposite side of the stage, peeking out from behind the curtain with a finger pressed to his lips—shh. Fifteen hundred people comply for a few seconds, until they break out into laughter.

Jensen tip toes towards Matt, who is sitting on a stool, arms open. It’s clear that Matt has no idea what’s going on behind him. The opportunity is seized and Jensen lunges. A yip from Matt echoes throughout the hall.

“You fucker,” Matt laughs, shaking Jensen off. “Did you guys know he was behind me this whole time?”

“Behind you in what way, exactly,” Jensen banters back with a grin. “Don’t blame them anyway, they’re the whole reason I’m here crashing your boring ass panel.”

It would be difficult from the general admission seats to see Matt’s expressions clearly, but from backstage, they are as readable as popup books. Matt laughs and thanks Jensen for being here, mentioning to the crowd that they’re very lucky to have caught Jensen. “You’re pretty busy these days, dude. You have a new movie coming out soon.” The audience cheers; people in the front row scream. “Yeah, yeah okay. Who’s going to take me to see it? You? In the purple? Yes. What’s that? You and your mom?” Matt turns to Jensen and shrugs. “I got my dates settled, I guess I can go see it.”

The stage is very simple. A pastel background is behind the guys, subtly changing every minute or so to a different color set. Both Jensen and Matt are sitting on stools, though Matt has better posture and Jensen is resting his elbow on his knee. There’s a stand for a mic in the center, but both men have their own wireless mics. Seeing Jensen grip his mic incites not-very-appropriate thoughts into Jared’s mind.

“You won’t stand him up, right?” Jensen asks the member of the audience who has volunteered for tribute. “Cause y’all know what happens to liars.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Matt snips with a smirk. “Not at all.”

Eyebrows raised, Jensen doesn’t miss a beat. “You’re about to find out, short stuff.”

Promotion for the movie has to be threaded into the panel as naturally as possible. Jensen hates feeling like he’s selling himself and his work. If people wanna see the movie, they’ll go see the movie; if not, no one is forcing them to hear about it.

“Okay,” Matt announces, standing up, “who wants to ask us some questions?”

He might as well have asked who wants to drizzle chocolate syrup on him and lick it all off? Once again, the audience shouts, sending the hall into overdrive. Jared can hear chairs moving. He watches Jensen and Matt speak to each other while people in the audience rearrange themselves. His backstage seat still isn't close enough to hear the exchange between the two men, but he can read Jensen's expressions without a pair of binoculars and that's a big improvement from his previous general admission seat.

This convention is run in much the same style as all the others. Although Jared has only been to one in person, he's seen videos of panels that Jensen has been in throughout the years. Audience members line up along the left and right sides of the room, with gold ticket members first in line and everyone after. Two microphones are set up for people to use; staff members are running around, approving questions that they would like to ask and adjusting the microphones.

Right before questions start, Jensen looks to his left, then his right, past Matt and directly at Jared. The sudden eye contact--while Jensen is in front of fifteen hundred people--causes Jared to yip in shock. Jensen just smiles and winks like the asshole he is. How can he be so calm? Doesn't he know that at least three fourths of the audience are taking pictures of his every movement right now? Doesn't he know that most of the gold ticket members have expensive, fancy digital cameras with high-res lenses and all that shit? Jared has seen photos of Jensen from previous cons--there are close-ups of the stubble on Jensen's face. In one photo, Jared and the rest of the internet could see the tiniest cut on his chin from shaving.

But no. Here Jensen is, taking the time to glance over and all but blow him a kiss.

"Hi," the voice of a young woman sounds out through the speakers, "oh god, I'm so nervous, I'm sorry."

Lifting the mic up to his mouth, Jensen replies with a smooth, "Don't worry, I'm nervous too. It's okay."

Jared looks around for a screen. Deanna swoops in at just the right time and provides him with an iPad that has a live stream of the panel. He takes the iPad appreciatively and looks back and forth between it and Jensen on stage. This is unreal. Jared would forever forego steak dinners for backstage access. The young woman asking the first question can't be older than him, and she looks as nervous as she sounds. Not only is she asking a question in front of fifteen hundred people, she's speaking directly to Jensen Ackles and Matt Cohen. Jared wants to tell her he understands what she's feeling.

"I just...wanted to know...if you ever experience character bleed? Uhm, because you've both spent a long time playing these characters. Or I guess, do you get that when you play characters you relate to strongly?" She's bright red and too close to the mic, but both Jensen and Matt are listening with their full attention. Matt is the first to lean back, signifying that he's thinking his answer over. A second later, Jensen motions for him to take the lead with answering.

"This is a good one," Matt breathes, scratching his head. "I'm not one of those people who necessarily believes that there isn't character bleed. I've met some actors who have concrete ideas, you know, about how their character is a character and nothing more. But I feel like the character is my character, which is in some way, part of me. Shit, does that make sense? I don't know! Your turn." Matt looks at Jensen expectantly.

The microphone is tapped against his chin, lightly enough so that it doesn't make any residual noise. "Uh, well, I'll tell you right off the bat--my philosophy is that if you can't connect to the character you're playing in some way, then you shouldn't be playing that character. Even if you're playing a serial killer and you've never hurt a fly, there's got to be something more there for you to identify with. You'd be surprised at how much you can learn about yourself when you play people you think you have nothing in common with. Those are the really good roles." Jensen pauses, readjusting his legs, smoothing out his jeans. "It's kind of like a gate, right? And you--that actor--have control over that gate. How much you want to feel or how much you want that character to bleed out, is entirely up to you. Some are better at it than others. Me personally? I'm better at it now because I've been doing this a while."

"Thank you grandpa Jensen," Matt snickers. He turns towards the young woman, whose entire world has changed. "Thank you for the question and for coming out today."

From the right side of the room, the second question is asked, also by a young woman. Her question is specifically for Matt, about his character on the show. For a minute and a half, Matt answers, expressive and engaged, happy to be speaking about his work. Jensen doesn't interrupt; he listens politely, nodding along, reaching over and patting Matt's knee when he finishes answering. They both work like that as they get through three more questions. They seem easy and comfortable with each other, which Jared is glad for. After all the tension and stress of the actual set, he's glad that Jensen can do events like these where there isn't as much pressure.

Some questions are standard ones asked by people who are new to conventions. There are the typical, "When did you know you wanted to be an actor?" and, "How do you find inspiration for these roles?" questions that Matt and Jensen tackle politely, like they've never been asked that before. And then there are more detailed questions that take a little longer, but the answers are meatier in substance. Jensen shares a story about one of his very first auditions and how different people were asking to see him with his shirt off. "Left and right I had set people telling me to flex this muscle and pose this way," he explains, walking around on stage, tired of sitting. "I had an audition for a part about three months ago, before this movie, and it was the exact opposite. I sat down with the director and his hoard, read what I had prepared, and that was it."

Someone asks Jensen about the wide genre of movies and projects that he does, wondering what he would ideally like to do in the future. Jensen thinks about it a second, tapping his chin. "Huh. Well, Batman would be freaking awesome. What dude doesn't want to be Bruce Wayne?" He waves off the applause. "Yeah, alright. I think Ben beat me to the punch though. That's cool though, I can wait. Work on my Batman voice." He cups his right hand over the mic and rasps, "Alfred, prepare the bat mobile."

Right after, Jensen gets serious but keeps his voice light. "I don't know, man. I have a million things I'd like to do. I think it's not really about the work because I'd be happy even if I got a rom-com role again. It's more about the people, as lame as that sounds. If you give me a crew and a direction I'm comfortable working with, who know me and work the same way, then I'd do anything--even work with this lug." Matt grins as he's referenced. "Thanks for the question, and thanks for being here," Jensen finishes with a nod towards the fan.

Someone else, two people later, asks something incredibly complicated about an aspect of a movie Jensen made three years ago. The fan, a man who looks like he's in his early thirties, asks about a certain line in relation to the ending, wondering how much control or say Jensen had in the final scene.

Politely, Jensen reminds the fan and the rest of the audience that he has very little control over the direction of a certain project or its ending. "Even the writers--the people actually creating the story--don't have the ultimate say. A few words from the higher-ups and bam." Jensen snaps. "Three months of plotting and fact-checking are out the window. I've seen entire shows cancelled before they even go to pilot because of a few minutes with some execs and the crew. So, sometimes I'm right there with you guys, pleading for my character not to die or for me to get a chance to play this storyline instead of that one. But hey, on the bright side, I have thought before, 'That's a dumbass storyline' and my ass was handed to me later--it kicked ass. Thanks for the question, please don't write angry letters to my bosses. Flowers and chocolate work much better."

The next question is from another young woman who looks just around Jared's age. She adjusts the mic with shaking hands and stammers out what everyone thinks will be another question about acting.

"Jensen," she says after she takes a deep breath, "how does your fiancé feel about your new movie and projects that keep you away from home? How do actors adjust to life away from those you care about?"

In three seconds, Jensen's facial expression shifts, but just as quickly, it changes back. He smiles and nods off the boldness of that question. Jared can hear staff members snapping at each other--who let her ask that? Didn't anyone see her question beforehand?

Typically, guests are given thirty seconds at the mic and then given the opportunity to get back in line. But the staff wants as many audience members as possible to get a turn. While the staff is scrambling, Jensen takes the lead. It's a con rule that no one is supposed to ask about the actors' personal lives. Not everyone gets or chooses the follow the memo.

With a steady and even tone, Jensen starts to answer. He's calm, but not as energetic as he was before. "Look, I've been doing this a long time now. And now, not as long as a lot of folks in Hollywood, but long enough to know that this is my schedule and that's pretty much it. I work twelve to sixteen hour days five days a week, sometimes in locations that I've spent very little time in. It's harder for the television guys," Jensen looks over at Matt, who nods. "This guy here is on set for nine months out of the year and does sixteen hour days five days a week. Movies only last about three to six months, depending on the production." Deanna has been elected to swoop in and speak to the audience member and those remaining in line. "So... if you date someone in the business already, you'd think they know what it's like because they run on the same chaotic schedule. But a lot of them don't. In my case, I am extremely fortunate and both my family and Jared understand that this is what I do and these are the things required of me. If I'm not on set when I need to be, the project doesn't get made."

Here, Jensen stretches, pausing for a drink of water from a glass on a table by the edge of the stage. He picks up again, sincere in what he says next. "It's demanding, y'all. If you're thinking of getting into this schtick, make sure you're prepared for that. Have a good circle of people around you, because that's going to keep you afloat when you're on location in god knows where, waking up at four and going to bed at eight that night. Thanks for the question."

Crisis averted. Jensen doesn't look annoyed or bothered; Matt cracks a joke about appreciating his home because he's never there to sleep in it. "I'm sure the furniture has fun when I'm not there. Who's next?"

As if they sense the open, another person, this time a young man, asks them both what it's like to be in Hollywood versus anywhere else. Matt answers that question, Jensen nods in agreement, and they move on. Someone with a very tall mohawk asks Jensen and Matt if they're allowed visitors on set and if they ever get to be extras. "No," both answer at the same time, laughing. Jensen fields the question, explaining that he can have folks visit and stop by, but no one is permanently on set with him.

"I know I used to think of a movie set like one big party, and sometimes, yeah, we have some fun." He shares a look with Matt that would make a great picture; Jared hopes one of the gold ticket people snapped it. "But it's work. You are there to work, so is everyone else. If you work at a hospital or an office, you don't bring your family or friends, do you? Nope. So a set isn't that different. Besides, once you've been on the tour, it's kind of boring for visitors. I'd much rather go to work and come back home to Jay. He's my reward for not strangling someone after the sixteenth reshoot. Thank you for the question. Cheers."

One by one, they tackle questions, until the two of them are walking around on stage, hugging each other, posing, teasing the crowd. Jared finds himself smiling again, watching fifteen hundred people raise their hands when Matt asks if they'd like to see Jensen in a movie about strippers.

There's time for just two more questions. How has an hour and a half passed by already?

Up at the mic, a woman steps up, wearing a shirt with Jensen and Matt's faces on it. Jared has that shirt in his tote bag; one of the vendors insisted that he have it.

"Hi," she says with a grin, fidgeting out of excitement. "I just first wanna say that I love both of you."

"I love you too," Matt coos with a wink and puts his hand in front of Jensen's face. "Focus on me, though. Ignore him."

"See what you've done?" Jensen murmurs into his mic, shaking his head. "Give him an ounce of love and he's like this puppy, desperate for your love and some treats."

"Do you have treats?" Matt asks, perking up. "Do I need to sniff your crotch for some?"

"Like you did when we first met?"

"I apologized later."

"Sure you did."

"So touchy. What's your question?"

The woman takes a deep breath. Jared adjusts the iPad in his lap and looks up to Jensen on stage. "I just want to know, if I may, because I know a lot of us wanna know, Jensen, how did you know your fiancé was the one? You must know a lot of people. How did you know he was the one out of the entire world? Congratulations, by the way, I loved that article with the two of you."

Backstage, Deanna swears and snaps into her headset. People changing their questions at the last second is a definite no. Staff is standing by to see Jensen's reaction. Jared sees it, but he doesn't think the audience catches it, not even the gold ticket people with fancy cameras.

"Is the show that boring," Matt asks the woman and the rest of the audience, "that we have to ask Jen about what he ate for breakfast?" He looks over at Jensen for a cue on how to proceed. There are a shit ton of people in the audience cringing from the nature of the question. Again? Really?

People think that Jensen is the most expressive through his eyes. And that's somewhat true, but not entirely. Jared knows better. Jensen is an actor; he has mastered controlling the appearance of his eyes to mask whatever parts of himself he needs to. His emotions are largely read by the way his mouth moves. A slight twitch of his bottom lip, a pull at the corners, and Jared knows that he's not exactly happy about the question. But this is a fan and they weren't pushy about their question, so he relaxes.

"Alright," Jensen sighs, "since y'all have been a great audience, I'll talk about this for a minute. That okay with you?" He asks that to Matt, who nods. "So... You're right. I do know a lot of people. That's what this business kind of forces you to do--you get out, you mingle, you meet new folks on set and off. I can't sum up my life from the past three years or so, but that's what I was doing. I was working, getting lost in Texas, and going back to work." He pauses, thinking about his answer and how to continue. "This is a little embarrassing, to be honest." One glance over at Jared and Jensen's smile comes back. "Oh, shit. He's bright red."

With that, fifteen hundred people scream and shout out, excited for some reason. Jared hides his face with the iPad. Oh god. Oh god. Oh dear god. It occurs to him that no one knows Jared is backstage. Even Matt looks over and waves. Holy shit. Wave back, Jared snaps at himself, and prays that he hasn't made an ass out of himself... yet.

"Okay," Jensen laughs, "I'm gonna wrap this up. I knew because in no time at all, I felt like I'd always known him. And when someone loves you enough to continuously go out of their comfort zone, you don't let that go. Not the way I was raised." A second later, Jensen adds, "Also, when someone buys you the best fried chicken dinner you've ever shared, under a Texas sunset, that's pretty much a done deal."

From her seat, the woman shouts out, "Thank you so much. And thank you Jared!"

Jensen looks over again, this time smiling and shrugging. Jared gives a tentative thumbs up before curling back up in his chair and gripping onto the iPad.

"He says you're welcome," Jensen relays with a smile. He looks over at a staff member in the center aisle, who gives him a cue for time. "Okay, so we've run out of time guys." This is also a polite way of saying that the staff has decided to skip the last question because they don't want another inappropriate question. The hall echoes with disappointed groans and the sound of people getting in as many last minute pictures as possible. Jared knows he would be one of them if he were in their seats. Right now though, he just wants to be near Jensen.

Is that really how and when Jensen knew? Was that the moment where Jensen started thinking about getting engaged? Jared thinks back to that picnic table, remembering how they got double orders of chicken and hush puppies, licking the grease from their fingers, happy to be out, even happier to be with each other. He remembers fighting over who got to pay, and sneaking the cashier at the counter a twenty for their tray, winning the war because he bumped Jensen out of the way with his hips and shoulders.

It makes Jared miss Texas.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Convention time continued, with extra drama from a member of the audience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for homophobia in this chapter. 
> 
> okay, i split up the chapters. XD 
> 
> the song here is "the yellow rose of texas" as performed by Elvis. that's the best version, hands down. i've been playing it nonstop for weeks and i'm so happy to finally write this scene. 
> 
> there was something else here i was going to say... hmm. well, i had fun integrating questions, even if I kind of twisted one around a bit. but the only way i could think of anyone asking who tops or bottoms is for some person to do it in the rudest way possible. 
> 
> oh, i have to change the tags again. now matt cohen is involved. sigh. ;w;
> 
> thanks again y'all! <3

The panel continues with questions cranked out and promptly answered. Although the end of the line is nowhere near, the guys and the audience are having fun. That’s pretty much all that matters at a panel.

Matt talks about Jensen's new movie and his own new project in response to a question. As people are moving around near the mic, switching out, someone stands up in the center of the hall. The guy is a little older, and his girlfriend seems to be trying to pull him back down into his seat. But she doesn't manage.

Above all the noise in the hall, he barks out, "Who's the girl, Jensen?"

Laughing at his own joke, the guy presses on, hollering, "Do you take turns? I sure as hell didn't pay two hundred dollars to hear you gush about how you take it up the ass."

Jared isn't sure who reacts with more vehemence: staff or the audience itself. The guy has one thousand, fourteen hundred and ninety-nine people out for his blood all around him, his girlfriend included. Security rushes in not only to get the guy out of the room, but audience members have started throwing things at the perp. People are breaking away from his area quickly to get out of the way.

"Easy, easy," Jensen and Matt plead with the audience. "Guys, calm down, take your seats."

"Make room for security," Matt reasons, "c'mon everyone, sit back down."

Something is said to the offender by a woman in her eighties that gets him to shut up while security drags him away. Whatever it is, it's enough to get the guy to not only stay silent, but turn bright red.

Deanna makes her way on stage and whispers into Jensen's ear. He nods and looks over at Jared, then nods again and motions towards the doors in the hall. Matt leans over and asks something to her, to which she responds to by motioning towards the doors again. Thirty seconds later, two security members introduce themselves to Jared, stating that they'll be with him for the duration of his visit at the hotel and on the way back to where he and Jensen are staying. Shit. Everything happened so fast. A longer glance backstage is given this time and Jared knows that the look is asking, "Are you okay?" Jared nods and hopes that his expression conveys his own questions, "What about you? Are you okay?" Jensen is the one who got yelled at. With a nod, a small shrug, and a tight smile, Jensen's body language answers back that he's dealing with the situation; he'll be fine. After he sees that security is beside Jared, he nods again and turns back to the audience. He shakes his shoulders, tossing off what just happened.

"If you didn't pay two hundred dollars to hear about me taking it up the ass," Jensen says to the audience, "then I wonder why you'd ask?" He shakes his head and sighs. "That was... different, I guess."

From his side of the stage, Matt asks, "Do you still wanna...?"

Jensen throws his hands up. He looks a little more relaxed. "Yeah, okay, why not. We can't let one asshole ruin our fun, right?"

"Definitely not."

"You got the stuff?"

"You mean," Matt says with a smirk at the mic, "do I got the goods?"

The audience cheers. Jared watches staff assemble. How did he get to being in Vancouver, backstage at a panel, surrounded by bodyguards? Is this a thing that happens?

"Oh," Jensen groans, scrunching his nose, "only one nauseating experience per day, please."

"You're missing out," Matt snips back. A staff member hands him a set of miniature drums, more like bongos, and a pair of drumsticks. "So, we have a little surprise for you guys..."

A ukulele is handed over to Jensen, and the audience is uplifted once more. Their energy returns and the panel is smooth again. There's natural banter on stage from both men, talking about the size and shape of their instruments, to Matt telling a short story about how he had a drum set when he was a kid, but his mother forgot what little boys do to drum sets and it was taken away from him after just a few weeks. "I could have been a rock star," Matt sighs drearily, dramatically looking off into the distance.

"Don't quit your day job," Jensen says with a nudge. "You mind if I change things up a bit?"

A whisper is shared between them. Jared can see Matt's expression change from attentive listening to a cheesy smile.  Something wicked is obviously being shared; Matt tries a tune and Jensen nods when he gets it. The sound people have hooked up the small instruments so that everyone in the hall can hear them. Backstage, the sound is purer, since Jared is closer to the source. Two sound techs give Jensen and Matt the okay a minute after, and Jensen strums something familiar.

"I'm switching things up because of that shining example of humanity," Jensen says into a new microphone, one that's hooked onto the collar of his shirt. "And well, because I really like this song. So maybe y'all will too. Once again, I'd like to thank Matt and the rest of his co-stars for inviting me here today. It's always fun being with y'all in events like this. Thank you to the staff, and well, thank you. None of this is possible without you." Matt playfully snaps at him to quit the Oscar speech and get the show on the road.

People in the audience are getting in as many pictures as possible. Jared takes out his phone and snaps what he thinks is a pretty good shot of Matt and Jensen laughing when Matt starts to play his part.

This is a song that Jared knows. How could he not know it? The drums are almost military style in the beginning, but the ukulele lightens things up. There should be a flute, but the guys do okay on their own, bouncing back and forth on stage for a minute. Jensen looks at Matt and nods, leaning into the start of the words.

"Oh the yellow rose of Texas is the only guy I love." Jensen starts off quiet, but every line gets a little louder, followed by the strum of the ukulele, supported by Matt's drumming. He's grinning wide, the crinkles at his eyes showing. By the next line, his accent slips out. "His eyes are even bluer than Texas skies above. His heart's as big as Texas and wherever I may go, I'll remember him forever because I love him so." The audience is dead silent, but people throughout the hall are standing, recording, crying, and fanning themselves.

Jared is bright red all over again.

Swaying with the ukulele, Jensen sings out, "There are so many roses that bloom along the way, but my heart's in Amarillo and that's where it will stay, with the yellow rose of Texas, so I better get there fast. I know I was his first love, and I wanna be his last."  By now, Jensen has become completely immersed into the song, pulling Matt along with him, and the entire audience is clapping along. It's a lighthearted folk song; Jared knows it from the Elvis movie Viva Las Vegas, which his mother watches every Valentine's Day. But he's surprised to hear that Jensen knows it too. Hell, Jared is surprised to be listening to Jensen sing it in front of so many people.

After the break in lyrics, both guys dance around each other, hoedown style. Jensen is wiggling and Matt is bouncing around as they orbit each other. For the final lines, Jensen revs up the ukulele, plucking at it faster, his fingers working quickly. Jared sees him as he should always be--giddy and energetic.

The guys face each other and work to a beat that matches the clapping in the audience.

"The yellow rose of Texas is the only guy I love. His eyes are even bluer than Texas skies above." Matt draws back with the drums, allowing for Jensen and the ukulele to ring out louder. Jensen nods in appreciation and finishes with a bang. "His heart's as big as Texas and wherever I may go, I'll remember him forever because I love him so!" One final strum and a tap on the body of the ukulele signals the end of the song. Jensen lifts up the ukulele and waves. Matt calls out a thank you to Vancouver and plays them off with a march, saluting as he walks behind Jensen. Two thirds of the audience have forgotten their seats and are standing, clapping and buzzing from the energy of a panel well-done.

Jared works his way as fast as possible to the side of the stage that Jensen exits at.

He changes his mind; he would forever forego backstage privileges for this.

"There he is," Jensen announces to Matt, smiling proudly, looking at Jared. "The yellow rose of Texas."


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entire afternoon is theirs to spend together; dinner is shared with Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wee! more updates! :D 
> 
> Matt Cohen has snuck in here somehow. >->
> 
> enjoy!

Security escorts Jensen and Jared through the rest of the convention center and into another unmarked, black luxury SUV. Outside the hotel's main entrance, fans are gathered, hoping for glimpses and pictures. Jared glances at them from the SUV as they drive away. They were led to the back of the hotel, to a private entrance that has its own gate and security. Jared wonders if their hotel has the same thing.

Plans are made for dinner with Matt later on. A restaurant is named; Jared nods when Jensen looks over to him for confirmation. He has no idea what that place is or what they serve, but if they have a bread basket, he imagines he'll survive. Matt has a few more hours to go at the convention, filled with autographs and photo-ops of his own to sort through. In the car, Jensen talks about Las Vegas, which is coming up in a few months, and how he'll be the one ferried from room to room, and sitting at a table signing away at a few hundred posters. He's looking forward to it because he stays in one of the larger hotels, gets fed decently, and catches some of the shows.

"And if you happen to pass by a blackjack table, what happens then?" Jared asks with a smirk. He has his left hand on Jensen's right knee and Jensen's right hand is on his waist. There isn't an inch of space between them for the entire car ride back to their hotel.

It was a great experience to watch Jensen work, but this is better. Jared is very fond of the Jensen next to him—relaxed, unwound, and all his for the afternoon. Before the car door opens, grabby, insistent hands sneak down towards Jared's hips and grope firmly. So these are the plans until dinner. Jared can live with that. He can also live with lips pressed to his ear and a rumble whispered so sweetly, his toes curl.

"I double down, sweetheart."

 

There should always be some sort of laughter during sex, Jared decides. It makes things fun, loose, and easy. And when Jensen laughs, right after he trips over the coffee table in the living room, Jared's chest squeezes with the amount of affection he has for this man. He can't get close enough, can't nearly push and press them hard enough together, so he settles for kisses.

On the largest couch, Jensen is sat down with his legs spread and jeans unzipped. Briefs remain in the way, but that's more of an advantage than a deterrent at the moment. Jared admires his conquest, standing up, assessing the tent in those briefs, and taking his damn time. The rise of Jensen's chest is captivating, especially when Jared can control it. A swing of his hips forward causes Jensen to take a sharp breath in; a trail of his right hand down his chest, towards the button of his jeans creates a ragged exhale, framed by soft, plump lips.

Jensen's eyes can't decide whether they want to follow Jared's hands or hips. Being in a generous mood, Jared helps out. He keeps his hands on the button of his jeans, fingers circling it, flicking the zipper, teasing while tilting his hips. The pace of his movements alternates between fast and slow.

Strip show? Not so much. Jared is not a sex god. He can barely roll out of bed without hitting something. But he can make Jensen get all worked up. And he can make Jensen laugh. He takes his hands away from his jeans and walks away, chirping, "Show's over! Time for a nap."

It's not exactly a laugh though, that Jensen gives. Tripping over himself and on the coffee table again, he races after Jared into their bedroom. "Jay! Hey... wait!"

Free time is the best time.

 

Four hours later, Jared has a few regrets. One of them is packing summer clothes when it's winter in Vancouver. Just the short walk from the curb to the inside of the restaurant freezes him. That regret is soon mended, however, when Jensen insists on holding hands to warm Jared up.

His other regret is not as easily remedied. Sitting down to dinner hurts. It's not a serious pain, but he is definitely sore and didn't leave enough time to lie down on his stomach after they finished and before they had to get ready. Wincing, Jared takes his seat, fidgeting with his napkin as Matt and Jensen order wine. Wine or another alcoholic beverage is offered to Jared, but memories of this morning are still fresh; Jared orders iced tea. When it arrives, he finds that it is unsweetened. Jensen asks for sugar without missing a beat. As Jared is stirring in a few scoops, Matt declares, "You two are disgusting."

The spoon hits the glass a little hard when Jared flinches at the remark. What?

"Look at you," Matt sighs, shaking his head and folding his napkin over his lap. "All in love and shit. It's awful. Truly sickening from my perspective--to think that I have to sit here and look at the both of you be adorable and considerate towards each other."

"I know it hurts your cold dead heart," Jensen quips in response, relaxing and holding up his glass. He looks at Jared. "Here's to causing this little shit pain. May he forever have to look at us being disgustingly in love." To rub it in, Jensen leans forward, the smuggest look on his face. He bumps their noses together.

Laughing, Jared reaches over, places his hands on Jensen's face, and kisses his forehead. "Cheers to that," Jared says, and at the last second adds, "snickerdoodle."

From his side of the table, Matt starts clutching his chest, sputtering and looking up at the ceiling.

After that, the three of them settle in.

Matt and Jensen aren't close friends or coworkers. But they've spent enough time on set together to know how the other works and enjoy their company without it being awkward or forced. Jensen explains to Jared that television shows are often much more tight-knit than any movie set, since a movie starts and ends and people shift around accordingly. In a television show, the same crew is kept year after year, on purpose, to make sure that everything is as consistent as possible. "You either get along with people," Jensen says over dinner, "or you become the set outcast."

Not everything centers on work. Jensen asks after Matt's family. Matt asks a few questions to Jared; where he’s from, how they’d met, and how he likes Vancouver so far. As the evening passes by, Jared is less awkward and anxious over meeting Matt. They didn't get a chance to speak much at the convention, but their conversation now is enjoyable. Being twenty-five, Matt is closer to Jared's age; they talk music, Jensen chiming in every so often, his hand on Jared's knee at all times. The weight of that touch, even if it's simple, is incredibly calming.

By dessert, Jared confides to Matt what has been happening in Smithville and a few of the issues he's faced with now. What does he do? How can he be Jensen's partner as an equal? When does that perfect moment happen for people when they know what they want to do for the rest of their lives?

Cracking into his crème brulee, Matt laughs. "I love acting." He slurps a spoonful, savoring the crunch of the sugary outside. "But it's not really what I want to do for the rest of my life."

"No?" Jared doesn't dig into his slice of cheesecake. "But you're so good at it. And you make a lot of money." Beside him, Jensen coughs, muttering that 'good' is subjective. Matt flicks an ice cube at him.

They're not in a fancy restaurant. It's a private place, filled with people who look like they're used to perpetually wearing sunglasses. From their table alone, Jared can spot a few big names and a few up and coming names. This is a place where celebrities and the like come to have a good meal and unwind without pretense. Tonight’s outfits are darker jeans and button down shirts. The prices on the menu are reasonable. Jared decides that he likes this place.

"Making a lot of money isn't the point," Matt continues. "I'm very grateful. My family isn't wealthy and this has definitely been a way to help everyone out, myself included. I know I'm lucky. But is it what drives me? Yeah, right _now_ it is. But I don't want to do this forever. I don't want to live like this forever. I miss folks back home. I miss sleeping in. And I miss knowing that I'm going to be staying in one place for more than two months at a time. Fuck, do I sound like poor little rich boy?" Jared shakes his head. "Okay, good, because I don't want you to think that I drag myself to set every morning. It's just... This is great, really great. But I wanna travel and get back into photography. I wanna spend time in places I've never had sets in before. I wanna do it all. So, my point is: this isn't the rest of your life. This is just the start of it. Ten years from now, you're going to want to do something completely different. You _should_ want to do something different. That means you're growing and changing as a person."

The table goes quiet for a moment. Jensen has taken one bite out of his slice of carrot cake and he hasn't stolen any of Jared's cheesecake.

"Did I go too after-school special for you, JA?" Matt asks, concern in his voice. "Sorry, I know you've been doing this a while."

"Ain't that," Jensen says, waving his hand. "Not everyone feels the same way about this business. I get why you would want out. I still think you should consider movies. It's easier. My schedule is still shit on set but..." A poke is made to his cake. "I have another project coming up and it's gonna take six months, based in LA. Filming starts late July. Until then, I want a break."

Matt nods. "So take a break."

"Your answers are so clear."

"Well, I'm a big fan of not making things more complicated than they need to be. Right, Jared?"

With a glance down to his lap, Jared murmurs a quiet agreement. Jensen should take a break. He's been working a lot, flying everywhere, and spending more time on set than he has anywhere he calls home. Of course, he can take a break without Jared. But it doesn't sound like he wants to. Still, Jared can't bring himself to depend on Jensen for everything. There has to be a compromise here that he just can't see yet. He reaches over and places his hand on Jensen's knee. The touch is returned with a smile.

"See what I'm saying, though?" Matt sighs, patting his middle and leaning back into his chair. "You two are gross. I could barely finish my dessert with the two of you being so kissy-face with each other."

Later, at the end of the night, Matt and Jared exchange phone numbers. Jared is once more assured that he isn't supposed to have everything figured out at the age of eighteen; but he's lucky enough to have a good head on his shoulders and that will go a long way. In addition, Matt tells him, "If you ever need anything, just give me a ring and I'll do my best. We were all sorry to hear about your car. You don't have to go through things by yourself." For being so averse to witnessing love, Matt isn't shy about expressing his gratitude or concern for others.

There seems to have been some backstage planning about this dinner. Jared notices the thanks that Jensen gives Matt before they go their separate ways. Hanging out with Matt has given Jared a chance to relate to someone closer to his age. He’s also gotten to talk to someone else about this business and its demands on the people in it and those that love them. It seems that Jensen has been taking care of Jared all throughout his stay in Vancouver. All he’s wanted, since Jared left Smithville, is for Jared to be safe and happy.

 

Now, however, as they finish dessert, Jared scoops a dab of whipped cream and plops it on the tip of Jensen's nose. It's a good look for him.

"I love you, snickerdoodle," Jared announces, in the sweetest tone of voice he can speak in.

The groans and teasing protests from the opposite side of the table don't drown out Jensen's reply.

"I love you more, sweetheart."


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared's last night in Vancouver sees snow and a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song here is "love me tender" by elvis. dunno why i'm on an elvis kick lately. it might have something to do with Jensen's new project in this verse... hint hint. XD
> 
> time skip ahead! heading back to Texas, where more events await.
> 
> enjoy! <3

The next two days fly by with Jensen being on set for most of them, even on Sunday.

Before Jared knows it, it's their last night together in Vancouver. When Jensen asks him what he'd like to do, what more he might like to see, Jared shows him over to the living room. He has their evening set up already, with room service trays set on the floor next to a giant nest of blankets and pillows. They form their own burrito.

Cold chicken tenders and fries are eaten afterwards, when they come up for air and sustenance.

Jared's flight is early in the morning so that Jensen can see him off before he is due on set. By the afternoon, he'll be back in Texas, and it's strangely painful to think of sleeping alone again. He discovers a downside to loving someone so much; you always miss them. They're still tangled up together, warm in the nest and full from dinner, doing nothing more than laying there. For a few minutes, Jensen starts to hum a tune into Jared's hair. A small sigh after the tune proves another discovery: Jensen just might miss Jared as much as Jared will miss him.

Vancouver sparkles. The air is clear in this city and all around it.

Getting a place here would be like a dream. Jared can picture himself walking over to the church and spending time there, looking at the stained glass and walking up and down the pews. He can see himself getting take out from Pinches and heating it up for Jensen when he got home from being on set.

It starts snowing at midnight. Nothing heavy, just a dusting.

One whole week has passed and Jared does and doesn't want to move forward. He wants Jensen to finish this film and get back to the States, to come back and get lost in Texas. But he also doesn't want to give up nights brushing their teeth together or mornings feeling his hair played with before Jensen slips out of bed. He doesn't want to let go of all the little things that seem mundane--Jensen speaking on his phone about business while they lay on the couch and Jared pokes at his freckles; listening to Jensen fight with the jar of peanut butter and run it under the tap until he finally pries it open; the sound of the bathroom light being turned off and counting the exact number of steps it is to get into bed, Jensen already there and half asleep.

All of these little things are pieces of their lives that have started to fuse together.

In the light of Vancouver, Jared's ring is luminous. The diamond sparkles just as bright as the city it's in. The band is kissed. One freckled hand cups the right side of Jared's face. Gently and slowly--like he's savoring a piece of this for himself--Jensen rubs his thumb over Jared's cheekbone, back and forth.

No one wants to jinx it by saying that the next three weeks will go by quickly. Jensen will travel at least twenty thousand miles until they see each other again.

Snow has only happened a few times in Texas since Jared was born. One winter, when he was six, Sherri wrapped him up in quilts and knitted hats and plopped him in the middle of their lawn. There are a dozen pictures of Jared sitting there, confused and bewildered by the snow that fell. Jensen has two favorite pictures, which Sherri gave to him as a Christmas present. The first is of Jared in tears, with his mouth open and his face scrunched up in fury, head tossed back to scream at the snow like a Peanuts character. The second one is of Jared about five minutes later, holding a cookie looking at the camera, smiling wide, all the anger at the snow forgotten.

Jared looks out at the snow now, and smiles. He rests his head on Jensen's chest. The burrito is toasty still, and just as comfortable as an actual bed. They won't get that much sleep tonight anyway; in two and a half hours, they'll both have to get ready to go to the airport.

Kisses are pressed to Jared's forehead. He feels Jensen breathe in deep.

There are no other sounds in their hotel room and the only light comes from the city outside.

In tranquil darkness, a song is shared in the simplest of ways. The low, familiar rumble of it surrounds Jared better than any blanket. It makes him smile wider than any cookie could.

"Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go. You have made my life complete, and I love you so."

Jensen wants to frame those pictures and put them up in LA. He placed them in a small photo album that he keeps in his carry-on, near him at all times. Those are the only two pictures in that album... so far.

"Love me tender, love me true, all my dreams fulfilled. For my darlin', I love you and I always will."

Sleep is a waste of their time together. Jared fights it, forcing his eyes to stay open. No. No, he's got to hang onto every moment, every second. He can pull an all-nighter; he can sleep on the plane. Would it be so bad to miss his flight and stay here? Would it be so bad to ignore the real world entirely?

 

Vancouver slips away from him.

"Love me tender, love me long, take me to your heart. For it's there that I belong, and we'll never part." Blankets are pulled up to cover his shoulders. Another deep breath in is given, and Jared feels the rise of Jensen’s chest. "Love me tender, love me dear, tell me you are mine." A squeeze is given to Jared by strong, loyal arms. Fingers thread in his hair. "I'll be yours through all the years, till the end of time."

Texas takes its place.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared heads home, making lists and thinking things over. At the airport, his experience is suddenly very different from before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay another update and you didn't have to wait two weeks for it! love when that happens. XD
> 
> we are about to launch into craziness! the airport is just the beginning, bby. 
> 
> i just love the idea of bby jared all flustered in front of cameras and reporters. X3 and that threaten of jensen... oh boy. 
> 
> this is my happy place. i hope it's yours too! got an update of model half way done and the last chapter of Your Eyes fleshed out. here's hoping that tomorrow is bountiful with ideas and motivation and time. 
> 
> <3!

On Sunday night, as Jared sat on the counter top and watched Jensen shave, he came up with a master plan on how to get Mrs. Ackles to like him. He isn't asking her to love him and declare him her son; at the very least he would like to be spoken to like he isn't some stranger off the street.

"I regularly give you head," Jared said, swinging his legs off the counter. "That entitles me to a certain amount of respect."

The snort and laugh that Jensen gave caused him to nearly nick himself.

Jared only revealed a portion of his master plan to Jensen. Later that evening, he gave Jensen a piece of hotel stationary with a series of chords on them. "Learn these," Jared instructed, patting the paper onto Jensen's chest as they lay in bed. "Or else."

"Or else what?" Jensen had murmured, taking a glance at the notes. "No more head?"

"Worse."

"How much worse we talkin'?"

"Way worse."

"A man can only stand so much, Jay."

Hovering over Jensen, Jared looked down and smiled, his hair creating a curtain around them. Gracious hands appeared on the sides of his face. Jared leaned into the touch and lowered himself, speaking as their lips remained only half an inch apart. "No more kisses—ever."

A smile expanded into a smirk.

"I'll learn the notes, sweetheart."

With that, the first part of Jared's master plan was complete.

 

 

Currently, Jared is more than thirty thousand feet in the air in a steel tube hurtling across the country towards Austin, Texas. At the last minute, he decided not to go to Miami. If he has to be apart from Jensen, going to Miami isn't going to help. They are somewhere above Colorado, if he heard the captain right on the last intercom announcement. For the distance, six hours isn't a terrible flight, but Jared is restless. Even the chamomile tea he drank an hour in hasn't helped him calm down.

Sleep is out of the question. Yes, he's dog tired and still sore in select areas of his body, but he can't stop thinking. He tries a few times, putting his headphones in and turning on mellow music, but his thoughts won't quit butting in.

A list forms itself in his head and bothers him until he gives up and pulls out his journal. This flight is relatively empty since it left so early, so Jared has no one sitting next to him. Of course, he wishes a certain someone were right there to remind him to chew gum on the descent, or to point out that he packed all of his pens in the front pocket of his carry-on. He sighs and pushes those thoughts out of his mind. There's no use in sulking. If he truly wanted to, he could have stayed longer. He could have asked Jensen to let him go with on the tour overseas and Jensen probably would have been too happy to say yes. But Jared knows that he's made his decision; you make your bed, you sleep in it is what his momma is fond of saying.

Determined to get something done on the flight, Jared starts a list.

1\. Figure out life.

That seems simple enough.

Better add bullet points.

1\. Figure out life.

  *          Job??
  *          Money??
  *          Packing??
  *          School??
  *          Bills??



His list is a little vague, but he can add onto it.

2\. Be the best damn son-in-law EVER.

That can't be so difficult.

Better add more bullet points.

2\. Be the best damn son-in-law EVER.

  *          Atlanta (practice!)
  *          Call Josh (J gets back Feb. 20th... 22nd?)
  *          Send flowers (she likes roses)



This doesn't seem like it's enough to be the best damn son-in-law EVER. How's he going to win her over anyway? He can barely speak to her without stuttering or fumbling over his words. What's the point of this, exactly? Does he need her approval or something to marry Jensen? Jensen didn't ask for his parents' blessing, only Sherri's. So what's Jared's incentive to hold out the olive branch?

The last time they spoke on the phone, Mrs. Ackles gave him the address to Jensen's Nana's in hopes that he might return his ring soon. That was very clear to him. He looks at his ring now, remembering how many times Jensen kissed it or rubbed his thumb over it as they held hands, as if reminding himself of its presence. It's a beautiful ring and it makes Jensen happy to see him wear it. Likewise, it makes Jared happy to wear it.

Leaning back in his chair, Jared closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Less than six months ago he was looking forward to taking the trek out to Dallas for the convention, making a list of things he should pack, his photo-op ticket included. How did his life change so drastically? If he wants a picture of or with Jensen, he doesn't even have to ask. When they're together, all he has to do is reach over, hold his phone up, and click.

His life seemed somewhat simpler at that point in time. He was going to go to Dallas, come back and brag to everyone about how great it was, and continue on with his life as it had been. The original plan was to work for a year, help his momma out as much as possible, and enroll in community college over the summer. He could then transfer to a state school—something in or around Austin was his preference—and go on just like that. It's odd to think that he would be at work now or at home playing something on his XBOX right now had he not gone up to that bar for some club soda.

It's his ring that reminds him of what he has to be thankful for.

He flips to a new page in his journal and taps his pen at the top.

From Colorado to Texas, he writes.

 

Paparazzi meet him at the airport.

Overwhelmed and exhausted, Jared panics. What's he supposed to do without Jensen here to navigate and say the right things to the right people? A few of the photographers take advantage of his inexperience and press for statements. Jared clams up, pushing through, blinking from the flash of cameras shoved into his face. He can't process what they're asking him even if he wanted to. While he's more familiar with the Austin airport, he gets turned around easily with the hoard of people all around him, shouting out his and Jensen's names. Snippets of their questions make their way into his head.

"...fourteen year difference..."

"True that you're....money...Hollywood?"

"...plans...for next year?"

"What's your...with him?"

Fuck. Where the hell did he put his sunglasses? Jesus Christ.  The plan is to meet John and his mother outside at the curb. But that was before this. Now, he'd like nothing more than to acquire a jet pack and get the fuck out of this mess. It's maddening to see so much space in the airport but be surrounded by a crush of people who don't give a shit about his personal space. He wants to snap at them that if Jensen were here, they wouldn't be pulling this shit. Someone would not be thrusting their camera near his face and snapping ten pictures every click. They wouldn't be getting high-res pictures of the bags under his eyes or the annoying pimple that decided to rear its ugly head on the plane.

Why are they here, anyway? He isn't the one with the acting and modeling career.

Someone reaches out and grabs his arm, trying to get his attention. It's a hard grab, and Jared flinches from it, snapping, "Hey!"

Just as Jared starts to shake the hand off of him, another hand appears and wraps itself over the reporter's. With a squeeze from that hand, the reporter yips, letting go of Jared on the spot, whimpering an apology. Jared looks up.

"I want everyone to take a step back or I'm getting on the phone with your superiors," John barks, standing a head above the crowd that surrounds Jared. "You should be ashamed of yourselves. And consider your sorry asses lucky that Jensen isn't here." At the mention of Jensen, the crowd quiets down. They take a few more pictures, but their cameras aren't clicking as fast and their questions have stopped.

John places his hands on Jared's shoulders.

"You look spooked."

"Oh no," Jared laughs nervously, "this? This happens to me _all the time_. I barely even register it anymore--of course I'm spooked! They grabbed me!"

"Yeah, they're greedy little fucks," John says, loud enough for the crowd to hear. "C'mon, let's get you home. How was your flight?"

Following John closely, Jared takes a few deep breaths.

If that could be the most stressful part of the next three weeks, he would greatly appreciate it. Something in his stomach tells him he's being ridiculously hopeful. That feeling is aided by the way John says "home" and Jared's mind doesn't think of Smithville.

He thinks of a pair of green eyes.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A text comes through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny chapter written on my phone so forgive any mistakes. <3
> 
> Ah, these two. /melts/

As the rental SUV pulls in from the highway, Jared's phone pings from one new text.

Smithville looks exactly the same, just as he left it. 

Jared reaches for his momma's hand and squeezes it when he notices what is different.

He is.

With a swipe at his phone's screen, the new text pops up. It's no wonder he's different--not with Jensen in his life. Not with Jensen's ring on his finger or the scent of him still fresh on his clothes.

It's going to be three very long weeks.

But the text soothes him.

"I will pray, pray, pray til I see your smiling face. I will pray, pray to the one I love."

A second after Jared has read the text three times, another comes through. 

"I would ask you to marry me all over again."

Without hesitation, Jared replies.

"I would say yes all over again."

Jared wonders if it's still snowing in Vancouver.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at work, Jared is not having the time of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i always want to apologize for shitty chapter summaries. XD i'm sorry. i hate summaries.
> 
> i'm off to work right now, and i guess you can tell that lately, customers have been a little trying. i would also like to note that i cannot search for a book based off the color of its cover. please also be aware that if you are rude to retail folk, we have mentally punched you five hundred times during our conversation. /end rant/
> 
> advancing with plot! enjoy. <3

The good thing about the book industry is that it is not a matter of life or death. Jared would hate to work in an emergency room. He considers that job to be critical.

However, not everyone thinks like him.

Mrs. Thorp is a woman about his mother's age; she is the head of the ladies bingo league and proud owner of a bottle blond beehive hairstyle that seems to be held together by concrete. She firmly believes that if Jared doesn't get her this book she will die. She will die right here, in the store, right now.

It's been a week since Jared returned from Vancouver. He has so far had a great welcome back to work. He has dealt with all kinds of problem orders and customers since his return, not to mention the men's toilet he had to unclog and clean this morning, which his coworkers refused to do because they claim that they aren't paid enough to do that--managers are. Since Jared is a key holder, he technically is a manager. Therefore, the job fell to him. What else was he going to do? Call Mr. Mayhue and ask him to get over here? He had to use scissors to clean the toilet. Think that over.

At least with the toilet, he had gloves on. Dealing with Mrs. Thorp should afford him some kind of protection. He would be happy with a HAZMAT suit. Or a riot shield.

"Ma'am," Jared tries one last time, leaning over the counter, getting as close as he dares, "I know the book you're asking for. It does indeed exist. However, as I have said, it isn't out for publication until next year." This seems simple enough, right? The book is due out January of next year and this isn't _The Devil Wears Prada_ where he can call the right connections and wrangle an advanced copy from the hands of the author. Well, Jared thinks about it for a second, Jensen might actually know someone... but no. _No_. He is not calling in that many favors just so Mrs. Thorp from Smithville, Texas can have something to read right here and now. She might die; but Jared can make peace with that.

The beehive advances, and Jared is face to face with thick layers of Mary Kay makeup caked on like it expires in a few hours. Her perfume alone will haunt his nostrils for days.

"Boy, I've seen that book here. I saw it here last week and I want my copy now." Her hands form into large, clammy fists and bang on the counter with every word. "I will not leave this store until I get my book!"

Patience. If you kill her now, Jared reminds himself, there are witnesses. Can't have that.

A lot of elderly people shop at Mayhue's. Jared used to be known as the coworker who could handle and deal with any elderly person, no matter how cantankerous. Now, he's become the coworker who gets every problem customer shoved off on him.

He is grateful to Mr. Mayhue for this job, which has helped him help his momma. It may not be much, but the paychecks matter and the work _was_ enjoyable. _Was_ is the problem. Still, he is looking forward to unpacking the order in the back room, sorting through all the new titles and shelving later on. That's all he wants to do right now—be alone with the books. Instead, here he is, paged up front to deal with ladies' bingo staring him in the face because Tracy didn't want to deal with her. Jared isn't speaking a new language; he does not possess customer service skills unique only to him. This is bullshit. He might be the youngest employee in the store, but he isn't a doormat.

Mrs. Thorp has crossed her arms over herself, becoming a squat garden gnome of the front counter. Her beehive has never changed, not once, in all the time that Jared has known her.

His reaction to her behavior surprises them both.

Laughing, Jared shakes his head. "Ma'am, you can stay here all the way until January of next year if you'd like. There is coffee up front for you. I've put your name on the waiting list for the first copy and I've added a ten percent coupon for you when it comes in. But that's all I can do and we are finished here. Enjoy the coffee, ma’am, and have an excellent day."

Two seconds later, Tracy pages him up to the registers, mentioning that he should bring a mop and bucket. It seems that a toddler, thought to be potty trained, really isn't, and has had an accident in front of register three.

An entire pallet of heavy boxes in the back need to be unloaded, scanned in, sorted, and shelved. Mayhue's can't sell new product if it's not out on the shelves. There are emails Jared needs to send out; problem orders he needs to track down, fix, and call in; a work order needs to be put in for the roof because there's still a leak near American History and people are tripping over the bucket they've put there; a customer from New York has placed a large order for twenty copies of a certain book and Jared has only been able to find eighteen; Mr. Mayhue has spreadsheets of sales that he'd like Jared to take a look at, whenever he gets the chance, so they can plan what to buy to bring younger customers back into the store.

Jared doesn't not have time to literally clean up shit.

On a roll from his altercation with Mrs. Thorp, he walks over to register three. Tracy is twenty-five years old. She has worked there longer than Jared, but never once received half of the responsibility Jared has from Mr. Mayhue. He has always gotten along with his coworkers. But this is the end of the line.

"Clean it up, Tracy," he says, adjusting his tone of voice to the one Jensen uses with pushy photographers. "The mop and bucket are in the storage closet, thank you."

Tracy's mouth hangs open the same way Mrs. Thorp's did a moment ago.

Jared walks to the back room without looking back. If they want to treat him like a manager, they're going to be treated like he's a manager. Shutting the back room door, he rests against it, closes his eyes, and sighs.

Ten minutes later, two boxes into the pallet, he stops, looks around, and asks himself...

"What am I doing?"


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smithville has secret places, amongst them is The Flyer, an abandoned movie theater. Jared visits for an escape, but gets a few reminders.

Jared knows every secret part of Smithville.

If he were to give a guided tour of the best of Smithville, it wouldn't include the Main Street gazebo or the train museum. Jared would show them what he has seen through years of poking here and there, asking the older folks in town questions, and sneaking out of his house at two in the morning. He isn't the first teenager to find these places in Smithville--after all, his momma was a bad ass at his age--but he likes to think that he carries on the legacy.

There are two spots Jared favors above any others. When his phone reads two in the morning, he climbs out of his bedroom window, backpack strapped on, equipped with a flashlight.

In 1956, to meet the demands of the young people in town, a few investors built The Flyer. Residents at the time complained about the potential noise disturbance from movies in the evening, so The Flyer was built in a more secluded portion of Smithville, away from Main Street. At its height, it had the capability of showing three movies, complete with a concession stand where hot dogs were quarters a piece and popcorn was free with the purchase of a ticket. The investors eventually sold two shares of The Flyer to two young men who championed for a drive-in option.

On Saturday nights, when the drive-in screen out back would be set up, The Flyer became make-out central for Smithville's teenagers. Jared knows this fact because several Smithville residents--including his mother—have given him personal accounts of what base they reached with who in the backseat of what car. He can't imagine soft spoken Mrs. Eder, the lady who owns Reminiscents on Main, as one of the repeat offenders of such acts; numerous times she was caught doing what other women have referred to as “un-Christian” acts in the backseat of quite a few cars.

As it stands now, The Flyer is not make-out central. It is possibly the furthest thing from it.

On November 9th, 1979, at midnight, one of the owners hung himself from the ceiling of the largest theater. The second owner found him in the morning.

Within six months, The Flyer shut its doors. At first, there were rumors that the closure was temporary; the investors and the remaining owner might renovate the entire thing and start fresh. But from what Jared could gather from newspaper articles and conversations with his momma and other folks who remember the incident, the surviving owner took his cut from the investors and moved far, far away from Smithville.

He never came back.

Three months before Jared went to Dallas for the convention last year, he sat down with Ms. Archer, who went to school with Sherri and knew the owners of The Flyer fairly well. She served Jared oatmeal cookies and sweet tea while they chatted on her front porch.

"There're things we hide," she said, holding a cookie in her hands. "Things we don't expect to eat us from the inside out. That's what happened. He couldn't take it no more."

Ms. Archer was one of the few people at church who didn't look away from Jared after he returned from Miami.

In the eighties, after one failed start-up, The Flyer was boarded up completely. Teenagers dared each other to go inside and summon the ghost of the owner. Over the years, a few stories popped up about people witnessing strange things happening inside The Flyer late at night. When Jared was thirteen, he was dared to go inside, but to also grab a reel of film from one of the projectors as proof. When he returned alive with two reels, he realized that the tales of unexplained movement or sounds inside The Flyer were the result of wildlife, bored teenagers, or nosy adults. After his first venture inside, he returned a few days later without his friends, and has continued to do so once every six months since.

It isn't difficult to get into The Flyer. Although most of the boards have been left intact, many are easily pried from the doorframes and walls. A few boards have been spray painted with various names and dedications to lovers. Jared is always amused by the new ones that pop up year after year.

Walking two miles from home, Jared sets down his backpack and counts the boards over the west side employee entrance. Third one up is the loose one he flips over first, followed by the fourth. He only needs two out of his way, and they are always placed back up once he's in and again when he leaves. A push and pull at the third board reveal that it's the same as usual. Jared tosses his backpack inside, removes the fourth board, slides both boards in, and then, finally, climbs in himself.

The Flyer smells like old, damp wood and mothballs. There are leaks everywhere, and Jared has found mice here before. But for being abandoned, Jared has been fortunate never to discover raccoons or anything larger. He has also never run into anyone else on his visits.

With the boards back in place, Jared turns on his flashlight, picks up his backpack, and starts the familiar walk through the theater. It's not even half the size of Smithville's current theater on the opposite side of town. That one is part of a chain; no one complained when it went up in the nineties.

Tonight is colder than most, so Jared is wearing one of the flannel shirts he rescued from the back of Jensen's closet in Miami. It still smells like Jensen, so to curb the interesting aromas from The Flyer, Jared hooks the collar of it over his nose and mouth. He may look ridiculous, but who is gonna say anything? The mice?

A couple of pipes have burst over the years. Jared avoids visiting in the hottest summer months, when the smell is amplified with the humidity. He steps over murky puddles, pieces of crumbled plaster, litter, and soggy ticket stubs. There's mold in the third theater, so Jared doesn't go in that one. The second isn't terrible, but the sound in there gets warped unless it's a very specific temperature at night. So, Jared’s routine is to plop a blanket down on one of the seats in the middle of the first theater, and settle in for a few hours.

Two years ago, when he first started to become serious about Jensen's movies, he saved a few paychecks and purchased a DVD projector with built-in speakers. It was two hundred dollars then, and it didn’t have the best sound or picture quality, but it was what he could reasonably save up for and easily transportable. Stopped in a middle aisle of the first theater, Jared takes out one of two blankets. He holds the flashlight in his mouth as he drapes the first blanket over two seats. A few years ago, he was able to kick away the armrest in between two chairs so he could have more room.

Satisfied with the arrangement of his blankets, Jared sets his backpack on the second seat, the one on the left, and begins the rest of the set up. The screen needs some maintenance from time to time, but he has it down to a science. Maintenance is unnecessary tonight, so he props the projector on the collapsible tripod he bought just for it, and aims it at the screen. He works quickly and all is set up within ten minutes. The final detail is to open up a package of strawberry Poptarts and a bottle of water.

Jensen's movies are his favorite to watch here--they always have been. If Jared had been able to go see a picture at The Flyer in at its height, he would have gone to see Jensen’s movies there instead of the duplex or at the three-story theater in Austin. He would have been a regular at The Flyer. Momma is fond of telling him that he was born twenty years too late.

Jared is here tonight because it's been two weeks since he last saw Jensen and he is no closer to figuring out the meaning of life than he was last week in the backroom of Mayhue's. He thought--perhaps naively so--that solutions and answers would follow his epiphany. When they didn't, Jared spent two days after reprising his role as Burrito Boy. Ultimately, his momma kicked him out of his room and ordered him to mow the lawn. "You can't mope around all the time when Jensen isn't here," she reminded him several times after. Of course, Jared snaps back every time that he isn't moping. He's brooding. There's a difference.

The movie starts and Jared takes a nibble out of one Poptart. His chest tightens when he sees Jensen's face on the large screen, the camera focused and zoomed in on him directly; this view makes the symmetry of Jensen's face more apparent, but it also highlights the slight curve of his nose. Jensen has had offers from plastic surgeons to fix it. At least, that's what Jared read in an article once. He hasn't ever asked Jensen what he thinks about his own nose.

"Have you ever prayed for a loved one?" Jensen's voice echoes out from the projector's small speakers. "Have you reached out, eyes closed, seeking the solution to your grief?" Dreary, overcast views of 19th century London are shown, including a spotlight on a beggar woman on the curb, holding out her hands.

Period pieces are some of Jared's favorite movies. He falls in love with the language, the setting, and the problems of people hundreds of years ago. In this film, Jensen plays an American doctor in Victorian England, struggling with alcoholism and depression while expanding his practice and advocating for stricter sanitary standards. Although he can physically help his patients, he can't ask or accept help for himself. It's a lovely movie, with a fantastic soundtrack filled with orchestral pieces that make Jared cry at just the right moments.

He hasn't heard from Jensen in three days.

Bundled up in the blankets and flannel, Jared cries at more than just the usual sad parts. He's being an idiot. The sound of Jensen, the look and feel of him all around, lit up and larger than life causes Jared's resolve to almost waiver. He was sending text messages and emails every day to Jensen, since he landed in Austin, and for a while, in turn he was getting replies back consistently. But then Jensen wrapped up the movie, flew to LA for two days to rest and pack, and before anyone knew it, Jensen was landing in Heathrow. But Jared is set on not flooding Jensen with whiny, clingy messages. He can survive without hearing from Jensen for a while. It sucks, but it’s not the end of the world.

In one of the last emails Jensen sent with more than five words in it, he described international promotional tours and premiers as the worst part of being an actor. "Movies," he wrote, "are not made for actors." Even though filming is done, he's still working twelve to fourteen hour days, with his schedule booked solid. If he's not doing interviews or photo shoots or speaking with studio executives at international branches, he's getting ready for premiers and parties where he's forced to mingle and make small talk. At every premiere, for five hours he has to wear a stiff suit, watch himself on screen, and be reminded of all the little mistakes here and there constantly--scenes he could have done better, scenes he wishes would have been cut, or scenes he wishes they wouldn't have cut.

Jared didn't completely know how to respond to that email. He sent along a set of pictures of Texas sunsets and hoped that it helped a little.

Stretching out, Jared huffs and buries his nose again in the collar of the flannel over shirt. On screen, Jensen is speaking to a Member of Parliament, frustration and withdrawal etched deep into his features. Somewhere in Rome, thousands of miles away, Jared hopes the real Jensen is catching a bit of rest.

The projector whirs and hums as it plays the one hundred and two minute movie. There is no ghost here. Jared stopped being frightened of The Flyer when he was thirteen. But he definitely flinches when the main door to the first theater opens. Eyes wide, he looks over his shoulder, ready to defend himself.

"George?" The voice belongs to a man in his seventies, standing in the doorway, holding the double doors open and peering out. "George, is that you?"

Heart pounding, Jared stands, instinctively holding his hands up. Holy shit. He would have preferred the cops to have showed up instead of a complete stranger. Who is this man? How'd he get in here? What's he come to do to Jared?

Once again, the man speaks, desperation clear and thick. "George."

The old man is wearing a sweater vest. He is dressed and groomed; trim in built but tall, which tells Jared that he hasn't been roaming the streets calling out someone's name. The man lifts his hand to cover his eyes and focuses in on Jared. Before he can get too disappointed, Jared blurts out, "Sir, my name's Jay. Are you alright?" Silently, Jared reaches for his backpack. He's Texan, but he ain't got a gun. The closest thing he has to a weapon is a small canister of pepper spray that may be expired; Sherri got it for him on his sixteenth birthday.

"Jay?" the gentleman echoes, blinking for a moment. His mouth twists into a frown. The words he calls out next are alarming. "The fuck are you doing here, kid?" 

An opportunity is taken to shut off the projector and stuff his things back into his backpack as quickly as possible. "Uh, well, you see..." Time to go.

Sputtering, taking a few steps forward, the man looks around the theater. "What... you've been watching... how long have you...?!" He sees Jared packing up and hollers. "Wait a minute! Give me one god damned reason why I shouldn't have you arrested for trespassing!"

Jared is hesitant to point out that the gentleman could certainly call the police, but by the time that happened, Jared would be halfway home. Still, he's not about to chance anything. If he does get picked up by the police, it's just more for tabloids to print and definitely not one of the items on Jared's list of becoming the best damn son-in-law EVER.

He blurts out the first thing he can think of. "My movie's not done... sir."

Of all places, Jared never expected to be in a standoff inside The Flyer. There are a few more hideaways in Smithville, but this has always been one of his ways to access Jensen whenever he needed to escape. And isn't it funny that now he's escaping not being with Jensen?

No one moves a muscle for thirty seconds.

"Ah," is grumbled at Jared with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're just some kid. What are you doing hanging around in this dump?"

Now that Jared doesn't immediately have to flee, he notices that the man is holding a ring of keys. That's how he got in without making much noise. One of the employee doors on the east side of the building only had two boards in it, but it also had a heavy padlock, which Jared has never tampered with. It has always been easier to use the west entrance.

Holding his backpack, Jared shrugs. "I like this place."

"Huh. This place is a pit."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't you know someone died here?"

"People die every day."

"I know that," the man snaps, shoulders bristling. His eyes look towards the ceiling. "You're just like George. A fucking smart-ass. Jesus, nothing changes, does it? I come back here and you're all the same."

"Sir?"

"...only the prices of hot dogs have changed."

For a moment, the man seems lost in that comment, and Jared doesn't know what to do. He's been taught by his momma to respect his elders, even when they demand on pinching his cheeks and asking him how the weather is up there. But this man, whoever he is, isn't completely in the present. And, while he isn't violent, Jared can tell that he has a lot of pent up anger. If Jared says the wrong thing, he might not be so lucky to leave without a scrape.

"Have you come here often, kid?" This time, the man's voice is softer. "Don't tell me this is where you live."

At the moment, Jared isn't completely sure where he lives. Yes, he has a room at his momma's house, but that's a room and it's her house. Yes, he shares Jensen's bed in Miami, but that's a bed and it's his house. He is neither here nor there.

"No sir," Jared replies, matching the man's tone. "I don't live here. I watch a movie every few months, here and there when I can."

There is no drawl or heavy Southern accent to the man's voice. Jared can hear a slight lilt to it, but it is both faded and consciously suppressed. Unbothered by the darkness they're in the gentleman shakes his head and clasps his arms behind him. "Well," he murmurs, not looking at Jared, "at least George has had company." This time, he remembers Jared's presence earlier, snipping only a minute after muttering to himself. "Sorry to break it to you, kid, but I signed away this place. Eyesore, they said. Condemned. Well, you know, they're the ones who let it get like this. And now, I think some suit said it's gonna be a convenience store. More power to them. But you." He points at Jared. "You better not come back here. You're young. You shouldn't be hanging around ghosts."

Opening his mouth to protest, Jared wants to say that there are no ghosts. Any time something has been knocked over or made a sound in The Flyer, it's been the result of mice or the building gradually crumbling in on itself. And for all of its dark, damp nature, The Flyer has never, not once, held any kind of negative or malicious energy.

But he doesn't get a chance to say any of that.

"Go on, now!" the gentleman shouts, puffing out his chest. "Get back to all the rest of them. Go on! Get out of here!"

Ten seconds is all it takes for Jared to zip down the aisle he was nesting in, towards the employee exit. In three minutes, he's out of The Flyer and on the sidewalk.

This is the one and only time where he hasn't replaced the boards on his exit door.

Running away, the whole of what was said sinks into him. They're going to demolish The Flyer. In six months, it'll be gone. In its place, a convenience store will be erected, so that people in Smithville can buy sodas and alcohol right before the Fourth of July parade in the center of town; so they can grab cigarettes and a cheap lighter on their way to the train museum or the gazebo. So they can stay and keep Smithville exactly the same way it was thirty-five years ago, fifty years ago, a hundred years ago.

He arrives out of breath and sweating at his mother's house.

Instead of slipping in through the window, he enters through the front door. Immediately, he drops his backpack and heads for his mother's room. Just one knock to her door and she's turning on her nightstand lamp, calling out for Jared, asking what's wrong.

In her curlers and nightgown, she tries to listen to his frenzy of questions.

Finally, he gets one out right. "What was his name? The man. That guy who hung himself in The Flyer? Momma? I thought... It was Arthur. Momma?'

"Good Lord, Jared, calm down!" She holds his hands firmly. "What nonsense are you going on about? Where have you been? Jared, it's past two in the morning! I know you're an adult but you can't be out on the streets by yourself like that! Are you looking for trouble?"

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, breathless still, shoving his hair away from his face. "But momma, wasn't his name Arthur?"

"Yes, for goodness sake, Jared, yes it was. Why are you asking me this? What happened?"

Pushing out a deep breath, Jared shakes his head. He feels dizzy.

"Honey, tell me what's wrong." Her first prod for information falls flat. He doesn't answer because he isn't entirely sure where to start.

Sighing, Sherri gets up from her bed, smoothing out her nightgown. She's going to put on a pot of tea and make him drink a huge mug of chamomile. While he drinks the tea, she's going to insist that they watch an episode of _The Golden Girls_ , because it's the least depressing thing ever, and until he falls asleep, she'll be watching him like a hawk. In a few hours, she'll make him a large breakfast and try to get information out of him again once he's eaten every bite on his plate. She is his momma. That's what she does.

"I think," she says, patting Jared's shoulder, "well, I don't remember too well, but I think Arthur's middle name was George. And Paul always called him that. Said it fit him better. Now, get into the kitchen, Jay. I'll put on some tea."

Paul came back.

And Jared figures out what ate away at him and George.

He shudders at the thought of it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long chapter for you! just over 3k. thank you for hanging in there! and thank you to MP and M for the quick, on the spot beta. :D 
> 
> warning ahead--drama is yet to come, between the boys and a few other folks. eek!


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared finds his way back to country music and reaches a decision.

Ain’t no sky like the sky in Texas.

Two days after The Flyer, Jared pulls out his guitar. He starts with the wrong notes. No. That’s not what he needs to play right now. Tuning and clearing his throat, he sits out on the back porch of his childhood home, and eventually, he finds the right notes.

It’s country that starts to mend the holes in his mind and the deep-seated confusion in his heart.

Clear as the sunrise above him, he sings, keeping his chords simple. His drawl is out.

“When I look south I see the storm clouds roll on their way to Old Mexico. I don’t wanna be alone. And the rays of light through my Shiner Bock bottle make me wanna turn the key and put down the throttle—get lost down thirty-five. When I get tied down by the ties that bind, seems like I’m never gonna find the time to do what I need.” Breathe in. Breathe out. This is different now. He isn’t singing for anyone but himself. “Cause no matter how big the storms, I know I can find me a place that’s warm.” Steady. Easy does it—his voice glides into the next lines. “The sun is shinin’ somewhere in Texas. I hope it’s shinin’ on her, somewhere down in Texas.”

In a perfect world, he would ask Jensen to buy up The Flyer and Jared would keep it their secret for as long as he possibly could. He would show Jensen the third and fourth boards on the west side door. Hand in hand, he would lead Jensen through the dank and the rot and into the first theater, where the only ghost is the spirit of what Smithville could have been.

“In a place that big a man could get lost, never mind the time, forget about the cost—there’s more important things. She’s somewhere smilin’ north of San Antone. I’ve got her number but I stare at the phone, ‘cause I still want to believe.”

How awful it must have been back then. How terrible, to love in a way Jared has only ever had to read or hear about. It hasn’t been perfect for him; no one is throwing a gay pride parade in Smithville any time soon, but he’s had the love of those around him. And it ain’t no paltry, weak, or hesitant love. It’s been the kind of love befitting a Texan sunrise—brilliant and unconstrained. The sky is wider and wilder here.

But it’s not going to disappear just because he leaves it.

He can always come back.

“Cause I know I can make it there on a twelve pack and a prayer. No matter how big the storms, I know I can find me a place that’s warm. The sun is shinin’ somewhere in Texas. I hope it’s shinin’ on her, somewhere down in Texas.” Jared hums and quiets his strums. “Mm, somewhere down in Texas.”

Pack it all up, Jared tells himself, cradling his guitar to his chest.

He can always come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song here is one that i stumbled upon today and it fits perfectly. thank you spotify. it's "somewhere in texas" as sung by Jason Boland & The Stragglers. check it out, it's beautiful.
> 
> this is a small transitional chapter. next one up has all the drama. 
> 
> but this version of jared is growing up /sniffs/ and i'm so proud. ;w;


	36. Chapter 36

The Out Youth Center in Austin welcomes all individuals, regardless of their orientation, identity, or background. Located in downtown Austin, it is a resource and safe-space for many, not just the locals. A few years back, it underwent an extensive remodel, largely funded by the downtown Austin Whole Foods. Thanks to the remodel, it now has a shelter with five beds available to homeless LGBTQ youth. Out Youth is known for its events that are held throughout the year for the youth and their mentors; there is also free HIV/STI testing, access to computers and showers, and sliding scale therapy to those who need it.

Tucked away from the main street in downtown Austin, the Center sees five hundred individuals pass through its doors every day. The drop-in area and gaming room area always occupied and popular spots. Art from the community hangs throughout the Center. A bowl of condoms is perpetually refreshed on a sleek, glass table in the middle of the lobby, with a neon pink sign that states, "The best things in life are free!"

A variety of support groups are offered on a weekly and monthly basis. Most of the groups are free, though they sometimes have the option of taking field trips, which cost a small fee for transportation and food. No one is ever turned away for lack of funds. When Jared was fifteen, he joined the young men's group, which met every two weeks for six months. Sherri has also been here, after Jared officially came out to her and the world did not end because her son was gay. She wasn't completely on board at first about talking to other people, maintaining that Jared didn't have to go around telling people he preferred the company of men. After a nudge from one of her high school friends, she started with the parent's group for youth aged 15-17. Before long, his momma was no longer an observer; she brought cookies to every meeting.

As Jared got older, the less he visited. Going to a group in Austin could only help him in Smithville so much. He had come to terms with who he was, and as one of the counselors told his group, he couldn't control the reactions of others. Every now and then, a few of his friends would make their way out here with him, as a way of trying to support him, but after high school the interest waned. He tries to make a visit every time he's in Austin, though these last few times he's gone directly from the airport to home. 

Outside of the main entrance, Jared waves to Candy and a few of the other regulars he still recognizes. They wave back, hollering and snapping that his ass has been gone too long. It feels good to be recognized by people he knows. Passing the bowl of condoms, which is currently half-empty, Jared walks up to the receptionist. The entire center has an open floor plan, with an emphasis on natural light and peace. Many of the walls are painted a light, cheerful blue. The lobby holds a permanent exhibition of a local photographer, who captured the fifteen most beautiful places in Austin. A few of the angles remind Jared of the Vancouver skyline. Less than a year ago, these pictures wouldn't have looked any different to him. 

"Hello, how can I help you?" The receptionist on duty is a pleasant woman, who looks like she's in college. Her hair is clipped short and dyed blue at the tips. Jared wonders how she got the blue to stand out, since the rest of her hair is dark brown.

Placing his hands on the desk, nervously thrumming his fingers, he manages to speak up. "Hi. Uhm, I have an appointment with Jim. I'm kinda early, but I also don't know where he wants me to park."

On the forty-five minute drive from Smithville to Austin, Jared got to drive the family car for longer than the usual two minute drive to work. It drives like new now; Roy really did go all out. Jared admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, he owes Jensen a more appreciative thank you. The receptionist calls up to the third floor while he thinks about the car. With all the repairs done to the car, Sherri will have a reliable car to drive for another two years. Brand new parts were installed instead of the used ones they would have been able to afford in payments; everything has been paid for and taken care of without worry. Jared knows he has to learn how to do this: accept what he is given with gratitude. He's not entirely new at it, but he's got room for improvement. Hopefully, Jensen can be as patient as he has already been.

Directions are given to Jared by the receptionist a minute later and Jared gets back into his car. Most of the drive was made singing loudly to music that was popular ten years ago. Bowling for Soup blasts on the stereo when he turns the car on. He drives from the main entrance around back to the loading dock, backs up to it, puts on the flashers, and waits. Okay. Feeling the need to stretch, Jared waits outside of his car. February in Texas is much different than January in Texas. It's starting to feel warm again and the sun is more consistent.

Comfortable, Jared looks around. The coast is clear. He pulls out his phone and takes a selfie.

Pleased with how he looks, he smiles to himself and debates putting it up on Twitter. Do people care if he posts pictures of himself without Jensen? It's _his_ account. With his fingers hovering above the app, he bites his bottom lip in worry. What if people copy the picture and use it for something terrible? What if he ends up embarrassing Jensen?

The sound of the loading dock opening jolts Jared from his Twitter predicament.

Jim is the lead coordinator and outreach member for young men at the center. He has always reminded Jared of George Clooney, which is somewhat more amusing now, since his momma has George's autograph and picture. Taller than Jared, Jim is a big guy, but he's not imposing. He's worked at the center for ten years now, and is one of the most approachable people Jared has met anywhere. Dressed in jeans and a button down, Jim walks out from the receiving room to the dock, waving and smiling.

"Well, if it ain't Mr. Hollywood," Jim announces, jumping down from the dock. He gives Jared a quick, firm hug with a pat on the back. "Boy, when you say life has changed, you really mean it."

Laughing, Jared shrugs. "It's been pretty crazy. How are you? Thanks for meeting with me."

"Anytime, Jay, you know that." Jim places a hand on Jared's shoulder. "You know I mean that, right? Just because you've accepted who you are and your family is on board, doesn't mean you can't ask for help." Jared wants to bet that Jim got his degrees in social work and community service purely by the soothing quality of his voice.

"I know, Jim. I've... well, it's been hectic."

Jim replies with a smile. "I bet. How's the hubby?"

"He... He's not... I mean, we aren't..."

"Good as married, though. Don't tell anyone, but I've been known to settle in for a night of wine and Entertainment Weekly. I damn near spooked my dog when you showed up on screen. Almost spilled my wine, shit." They share a laugh and Jim pats Jared's back again. "It's good to see you, though. Let's catch up in my office? How was your drive over?"

"I spent most of it singing to one song, really, really loud." Jared opens the trunk of his car.

"Oh yeah? Which song?"

"I'm not telling!"

"If you don't tell, I'll make up something ridiculous."

Blushing bright red, Jared grabs the first box. He glares over at Jim. "You wouldn't know it."

"Oh ho," Jim smirks, "is that a you're too old to know dig, Jay?"

"Maybe."

"Try me. Go on."

"You won't know it."

"Well, I never will if you don't spill." Jim grabs a box and hauls it up to the dock. "C'mon. Spill them beans."

Just an hour ago, Jared was singing this song at the top of his lungs, thrumming his hands on the steering wheel, bouncing around in his seat. Now, he's helping Jim unload and carry six boxes inside. Three boxes are filled with clean, neatly folded, gently used clothes that Jared and his momma sorted through. Two boxes are stuffed with books and movies from Jared's shelves, things he's read multiple times or has two copies of. Many of these books have queer themes or are by queer authors. One box contains items Sherri has put in: clothes she no longer wears, a few pairs of shoes, and a couple of purses. Everything is packed the way she has taught Jared. Four boxes fit into the trunk; three are in the foot wells of the backseat. In the backseat, Jared managed to fit one of his smaller bookcases.

Marked fragile, the very last box contains Jared’s wrapped up game consoles.

The center is holding its semi-annual clothing swap in two weeks, gearing up for spring. Queer Prom is in May; Jared hopes that someone snags up the suit in one of his boxes.

Passing over one of the boxes of books, Jared laughs when he sees the wounded, hurt look on Jim's face. He playfully shoves the box into Jim's arms and sighs dramatically. This was the first place he thought of while he was boxing up his things. Most of his room is sorted and packed, with his Calvin and Hobbes books in a box with his copy of _Giovanni's Room_. Jared isn't sure how he's going to build a new wardrobe once this is all said and done, but he hopes Jensen doesn't mind a few more of his shirts going missing for a while. Or maybe forever.

Jared decides to throw Jim a bone. "It's perfectly fine," Jared sings, "to be a happy individual. Don't hate us 'cause we're happy, don't hate us 'cause you're miserable."

Climbing up the dock after everything is unloaded, Jared snorts at the echo of his voice that Jim makes. They'll bring out a dolly and load up the boxes. For now, they each grab an end of the bookcase and carry it towards the receiving room. "If you're hearing what I'm sayin', then I want you to say, I'm gay!"

"Can we get some la-la's up in here, please?" Jared chants back, following Jim. "La, la, la..."

It is quite possibly the most appropriate song to be singing as they duck into the center.

 

Predictably, Jim fusses over Jared for the rest of the time Jared is in Austin. He buys them lunch, which they have in Jim's office, and takes him on a tour of the building for old time's sake. Jared is shown the Center's shelter, which Jim hopes to expand to ten beds within the next two years. Since they’re in the vicinity, Jim also shows Jared where his bookcase and books will eventually be placed, once the staff moves a few things around. There's a video game corner, which has one old school XBOX and a PS1. Seeing this, Jared wishes he had another television to donate in addition to his XBOX 360 and PS2. The Center itself has a gaming room with two screens and a bunch of consoles, but the shelter isn't quite there yet.

"It's a private space," Jim details to Jared during their walk through. "If the kids want privacy to unwind, they can be here. You remember the gaming room out in the Center—it can get loud. I'll have Artie set up the systems and I'll pass the games you brought on to my supervisor for approval."

Every day at one thirty, the shelter is shut down for cleaning. Beds are made, floors are washed, and bathrooms are sanitized within an hour. Jared happens to be passing through during this time, so he doesn’t get a chance to meet any of the residents. But he can see life here anyway; someone left a pair of chucks near their bed; someone else has put up a Blink-182 poster in the hallway outside their room; poetry magnets have been arranged on the fridge in the community kitchen.

By the time Jim has to run to his next appointment, Jared feels simultaneously lighter and heavier. He can't quite explain the sensation, but it sits on his chest and rolls around, even as Jim gives him a bear hug and two thunderous claps on his back. It pushes down on his lungs, even though his goodbye is cheerful. What’s he missing?

Halfway down the hallway, Jared stops and runs back to Jim's office.

Surprised but as receptive as ever, Jim welcomes him back. Jared looks up at him, trying to remind himself that he’s only asking a question, not making any kind of statement. "Do you... do you know anything like the Center out in Los Angeles or Miami? I mean... like this place. Is there something out there like this?"

“Out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let’s see what I can do.” Jim grins and walks over to his desk. After a flip through his Google contacts, he hands Jared a piece of stationary. Two addresses are listed, along with their phone numbers and the names of people who work there—folks who Jim personally knows.

"Tell your momma I said hi," Jim reminds Jared. "And tell the hubby he's got a keeper."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah! like always, i've edited where this is going for now. i have another chapter to post later today, and then we will get to the angst. XD 
> 
> thank you to my M's for beta-ing so quickly and awesomely. :D 
> 
> the song here is "i'm gay" by bowling for soup. one of my favorites. XD 
> 
> okay, thanks for reading! more later. <3


	37. Chapter 37

Outside, Jared looks around at Austin from the main entrance. He cranes his neck up and feels all of ten years old again, when his mother used to bring him here on her big city errands. She really must have worried when he went to Dallas by himself last year.

Driving back from Austin to Smithville is always a challenge. In high school, he’d wonder what would happen if he decided to stay in the city instead of returning home. Jared shakes his head and sticks his hands in his pockets; it’s the what-ifs that scare him. But don’t they frighten everyone? What if he had gone to college right after high school? What if he had decided to save his money for something else instead of purchasing a ticket to the convention? What if he hadn’t splurged and gotten that photo-op? What if he hadn’t gone up to the bar to ask for club soda?

There were a million opportunities for his path to run parallel to Jensen’s.

But isn’t he lucky? They ended up intersecting.

“YO JAY-BIRD!”

Flinching at the sound of this nickname, Jared nearly falls over himself. He looks over to the source.

Esperanza is five foot four, with the face of a supermodel and the attitude of a New Jersey waitress. That is, at least, how she has always described herself to new members of the Center flock. She is a year older than Jared. As his superior, she was the first to introduce him to a shot of whiskey, a smoke from her cigarette, and a glimpse into what it was like to not give two fucks.

In her blue sundress and bright red heels, she walks up to Jared, followed by Candy, Memo, and Charles. These are Center kids through and through; all four of them live in Austin, though Memo’s family, the last Jared saw him, moved out to the suburbs. Esperanza is a fixture at the Center, helping to run the young women’s group for ages 12 to 14. Every project she gets involved with for the Center inevitably involves recruiting everyone else to help.

“Where the fuck you been?” she snips, yanking Jared’s shirt collar. “I had to find out from this lot that you were around today, how dumb is that?”

Only slightly fearing for his life, Jared replies, “I didn’t see you in the lobby, Anza.”

“Did you try,” she asks, lowering her voice, pulling him in close, “looking up your butt?” She lets go of his shirt the second she sees him laugh. Immediately after, she gets down to business, looking him up and down. “I see you in the papers sometime, Jay-bird.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Those papers those rich white ladies like to buy at the supermarket. Whatchu call them, Candy?”

Candy pipes up, shooting Jared a grin. “Rag mags.”

“Those,” Esperanza asserts with a nod. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t like what they say aboutchu.” Jared shrugs but that response isn’t up to her standard. She continues. “If you’d have wanted your man’s money, fuck, you’d have gotten it and ran by now. You ain’t stupid. You know what to do with a fucking blank check. Uh uh. It’s shit. And still I see those ladies just eating it up.”

“Do you really love him?” Memo asks. He’s five foot eleven, but it never seems that way when he’s around Esperanza. Everyone seems like they’re four foot nine around Esperanza.

“Of course he does!” Candy snaps, lightly slapping Memo’s arm. “You think Jared would run off with some asshole?”

Every expression Jared makes is carefully monitored by Esperanza. She clicks her tongue and bumps their shoulders together. Her tone is a little softer. “You wouldn’t,” she murmurs, the smell of her vanilla perfume lingering. “I don’t do adios, Jay-bird. I’m not that kind of woman.”

“You’re not,” Jared agrees, and looks over at Memo. “I kind of love him a fuck ton.”

“That’s more than a shit ton,” Charles quips, holding his hand out to Jared. “Good luck. Don’t look back.”

Jared shakes Charles’ hand but Esperanza pushes Jared in the chest, knocking him back an inch. “Don’t listen to this ‘dejo!” she hisses, locking eyes with him, pointing her finger at him. “Who the fuck says that? Eh? Don’t look back. No! Look back. Look back all the time and remember us. We’re the ones who put up with your whiny, sorry, stupid ass. We’re the ones who bought you shakes at Turner’s and smokes from the gas station on ninth. And remember? We’re the ones who kicked that sonofabitch’s ass when he tried to fuck you on the first date. Hmph.” Nodding once, she stands up straight, shoulders back, her dress billowing. “And when we heard about your car and all that other shit those assholes did to you, we were the ones who got upset and threatened to cut off some balls and hang ‘em from the church.”

Around her, Candy, Memo, and Charles nod and murmur in agreement.

“Get outta here, andate,” Esperanza commands, waving her right hand towards the street. “But now that you’re out, you better visit a fuck ton more often than you did when you lived in that shithole town.”

One by one, the group says their goodbyes. Candy gives him a hair-tie from her wrist.

A selfie is taken at the last second and this time, Jared is surrounded by four others, Anza front and center kissing his cheek, purposefully smearing her lipstick. She deems it a good luck charm. Jared wishes the rest of the group luck and apologizes for not visiting more often this year. Charles shrugs and Memo shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that,” Memo says, with the same shy smile that Jared has seen on him since they met in the young men’s group.

“But if Jensen has any single friends,” Candy squeals, pulling Charles towards the Center, “you let us know!”

Before Jared turns to head towards his car, Esperanza takes a piece of paper from the only pocket she has sewn onto her dress. Jared laughs when he sees that it’s an origami fortune teller. She opens it up and holds it out to him. “Pick a color.”

“Blue.”

“B-l-u-e. Pick a number.”

“Uh, two.”

“One. Two. Ask a question.” 

Fuck. Of all the questions that have been floating around in Jared’s head, he goes for the broadest, simplest one. He takes a deep breath.

“Am I gonna be happy?”

Esperanza punches him in the shoulder. “Pick a number.”

“One.”

The paper crinkles as she lifts up the flap to reveal Jared’s fortune. She peeks, leaves the flap open, laughs, and hands the fortune teller over, placing it in Jared’s hands. Her number is written on the side that says Blue.

Four hugs and a kiss to his cheek are given.

Jared gets back to his car and sits in the driver’s seat for a second, trying to process everything, determined not to completely lose his shit. He can’t not look back. He’s looking back already, as he drives away.

An hour later, back in Smithville, sitting on his front porch, Jared reads his fortune out loud.

“Yes, you dumbass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah! okay :D i kind of fell in love with this chapter. i had a lot of fun writing it. i hope you have fun reading it. and now, we move towards angst. XD


	38. Chapter 38

In the time that Jared has worked at Mayhue's, he has casually observed the reading habits of Smithville. Romance is a big seller; it's a hit with the likes of Mrs. Thorp and many others. If Debbie Macomber herself walked through the center of town there would be an all-out parade. The same goes for Mystery and James Patterson. Mr. Mayhue remembers all the crazes and fads of the literary world; anything that will be made into a movie must be kept in-stock. He has been in the industry long enough to know that there will be the inevitable phone calls from folks who want to read the book before they go see the movie.

However, demand only goes so far. Mr. Mayhue's last assistant manager made the mistake of ordering three hundred copies of _Eat, Pray, Love._ Years later, after all the interested has died, two hundred copies remain in the back room, sitting in a dusty corner. Tonight, it is Jared's job to figure out what to do with these copies and how to recover at least a fraction of the cost.

One day after his visit to the Center, Jared feels like asking the origami fortune teller a few more questions. It'll have to wait. He has to deal with two hundred books that cost the company a pretty penny when they were purchased; going over the receipts he can't believe they paid full list price for something like this. Most contemporary books are like cars--they depreciated in value over time. Grumbling to himself in the office, surrounded by papers, two calculators, and a cup of cold coffee, Jared tries working out plans of attack. Of all the things he could do in the future, Jared is pretty sure he wouldn't want to own a bookstore.  

Before closing the store down, Jared hauls out every single copy of _Eat, Pray, Love_ and slaps a three dollar sticker on the front of each one. He loads them up onto two library carts, prints up four signs made by tinkering around in Word for ten minutes, and sets up a display at the front of the store. While his coworkers sweep, clean the counters, and put away stray books, Jared counts the safe and sends two emails out to two of their publishers. This is a familiar routine; knowing that it won't be forever, makes it seem like time passes by faster.

Once the nightly lock up is done, Jared says good night to his closing crew. No one is mean to him at the store, but it certainly feels different. If Jared is being honest with himself, it's felt different since he was promoted, which was just before he started seeing Jensen more often. He shakes off the feeling, preparing for what he needs to do tomorrow.

It was Jared's plan to show up in Miami, greet Jensen, and come back to Smithville with him for a few days to pack and finalize a few things. He hasn’t revealed his decision to Jensen, thinking that it’ll make for a great welcome back present. However, keeping it a surprise has its drawbacks. Jared has most of his things and clothes packed up in boxes and tubs, but he has no idea where it's all going to. Where will they live for the time being? What exactly does Jensen have in mind for Jared to do while he's taking a break from projects? Does he expect Jared to live off an allowance? Because right away, Jared knows that won't work for him. He used to dream about someone carting him off and taking him to a mansion as a kept boy. But he was thirteen the last time he fantasized about that; he was upset with his mother for making him mow their lawn and the Smith's lawn for free.

Sherri has the car tonight. She offered to pick him up, but Jared declined. Smithville is quiet at this time of night. Few cars are on the road and no one else is out on the sidewalk. Halfway home, Jared's phone goes off. He's hesitant about answering it, remembering from a self defense class at the Center that most attackers take advantage of distractions. The number is unfamiliar, but it could be Jensen. Jared looks up and sees that he's only a few blocks away from home, so what could it hurt?

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Jared?" The voice of a confident young man comes through the line. Jared doesn't immediately recognize who it is.

"This is. Who am I speaking to?" He decides to treat this as if he were speaking to a customer, so he keeps his voice steady and neutral. In the background, Jared can hear some fumbling, and the sound of a television or people talking.

"I'm sorry to call so late, but my name is Julian Henrickson. I'm Jensen's publicist. He may have mentioned me a few times to you?" Julian doesn't allow Jared to think about this; he continues on after only a second of silence. "I'm calling on Jensen's behalf, you see. He's extremely tied up in an interview at the moment and we've come to quite a pickle. He instructed me to phone you. I'll only take up a minute of your time."

Walking past a mailbox he installed for Mrs. Sutton two summers ago, Jared tries to think back to Jensen mentioning his agent, publicist, and assistant. None of these people have been introduced to Jared in person so far. There's plenty of time for introductions later on. "Okay," he murmurs, fixing Jensen's shirt, which he wore to work. "Is Jen alright?"

Smoothly, Julian answers, "Yes, he's just fine. A little tired, but you know how jet lag is."

"Yeah."

"Now, there are a few matters to take care of, but I'm pretty sure I can handle them for the both of you and make things a lot easier." Papers rustle on Julian's end. "The company which holds Jensen's money from his projects will not allow us to transfer payment from overseas. This is due to a bunch of new laws and taxes that I won't bore you with. We are currently holding three million American for Jensen in a bank in London. However, that bank will only allow us to maintain that money for another two hours. Jensen has contacted a colleague in New York who can open up a temporary account, until Jensen returns to the States. Unfortunately, Jensen is in an interview and I cannot get all of his information for the New York bank. He gave me your number and asked that I contact you. We can set this up in your name for the moment, and as soon as Jensen is free, I'll switch everything over."

Not one second is given for Jared to think things over or ask a question.

"All I need, Jared," Julian says cheerfully, the sound of people in the background gone, "is your full name, your mother's maiden name, and your social security number."

Putting Julian on speaker phone, Jared stammers out, “Uh, I'll have to ask Jensen about this first.”

"I completely understand, Jared. I know how sudden this is. Unfortunately, if everything isn't put in at the appropriate time, Jensen will lose six hundred thousand dollars to taxes and penalty fees. If I could get Jensen’s social from you, would that work better?"

Jared wants to laugh. He may know a lot about Jensen, but he doesn't know Jensen's social security number. Keeping his voice in the same tone as he started the conversation, he replies that he will get a hold of Jensen within five minutes and have a definite answer about how to proceed. "It'll only take a minute," Jared emphasizes, like he's ordering a book. "He always answers on the second ring for me." That's not quite true; lately, Jared has been leaving more voicemails than actually speaking to Jensen, but there is no reason why Julian or anyone else has to know that.

Persistent, Julian presses, "I'm afraid he is completely unreachable at the moment. I would have called him myself if he could be contacted directly. But he is in an interview with several reporters and cannot be disturbed. That is why I'm calling you, Jared."

"Oh." Jared softens his voice. "That does sound like an important interview."

"Extremely."

Checking his phone for the second time, Jared frowns. It's just past nine thirty at night. Cicadas buzz in the trees nearby and his street is quiet; he can hear the television in their living room on, playing something that sounds like Oprah. His momma must have fallen asleep on the couch again. Jared counts forward from nine, and then he checks his email. All the while, he asks Julian questions about the bank—simple, annoying things like the name of the bank in New York. He speaks like a customer asking if the store is in alphabetical order.

On Julian’s end, the phone shifts back and forth. "I apologize for my brevity," Julian half-mutters, "but I do need to get the wheels rolling on this, Jared. I certainly don't want Jensen to lose six hundred thousand dollars, not after what he's been through on this tour. I was told I could rely on you for the necessary information."

"Oh, yes, of course," Jared agrees, closing his email. He wasn't wrong. Jensen's schedule changed again at the last minute yesterday afternoon. A picture of the Eiffel Tower was sent to Jared at midnight his time. Jensen tries not to send texts or messages past a certain hour, hoping not to disturb Jared’s sleep. He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice. "Um,  I have to tell you, Julian, that it's four in the morning in Paris."

Ten seconds of dead silence pass by. Julian snaps. "What? Jared, Jensen is in Rome."

"No," Jared says with a small smile, "that was last week."

"I'm not sure what game you're playing, Jared, but I am contacting you about a serious matter..."

Julian isn't allowed to finish his sentence. "I'm not sure what game _you_ are playin', but I'm not as stupid as you think. I work retail. I know when someone's pullin' a scam. Jen would never ask someone to contact me about money; he'd do it himself."

Something holds Jared back from hanging up—a shrill, piercing, guttural scream. It causes Jared to jump and all the hairs all over his body to stand. The scream isn’t that of a frustrated individual; it reminds Jared of a wounded animal. Gone is Julian's glossy, sharp tone. When he speaks next, there's more fumbling on the phone than ever, like he’s shaking it. "You shouldn't even be in his life," Julian hisses. " _I_ should be in his life. Not some..."

That's as far as Julian gets. Jared hangs up. He drops his phone on the pavement, but scoops it up a moment later. He's supposed to be afraid of hanging out in The Flyer when there are people out in the world that do this?

Heading inside, locking up after himself, Jared no longer cares what time it is anywhere.

He calls Jensen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay an update! i was struggling for a while on which direction to take this. i'm very happy with the result. :D thank you to my betas for all of their help with this! 
> 
> here we go into drama territory! :O


	39. Chapter 39

_Are you on the phone with him right now?_

_I bet you are._

_Tell Jen I say hi._

_I like to watch him while he sleeps._

_You know what really turns me on, though? The way his cock feels in my mouth._

_That's right. You think you're the only one? Oh. There are so many more of us. But I'm special._

_He'll act like he has no idea what I'm talking about. But that's all so he can keep coming back to me at night, while you're stuck in your pathetic little life in Texas._

_I'm on set with him._

_You can't possible expect to marry Jensen. That's my job._

_Jared._

_Oh, are you upset?_

_Don't cry._

_I like to watch you sleep, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait and a tiny cliff hangery update! This won't be a long arch. <3 thanks for hanging in there!


	40. Chapter 40

Reinforcement arrives two and a half hours after the first phone call to Jensen is made.

At nearly midnight, a six foot two Texan stands in their doorway.

Politely, he introduces himself to Sherri, who is absolutely beside herself. Calling Jensen in Paris and speaking with him and John has not settled her nerves; nor did the phone call to the Smithville police, who replied to the event that Jared should just keep his phone off and change his number again. There is nothing more that they can or will do—period.

Therefore, the best has been sent; this is the only person Jensen trusts enough to handle this situation.

“Ma’am, it’s a pleasure,” Josh says, shaking Sherri’s hand and turning to Jared. “And you, well, it’s always a pleasure, but I wish this was under better circumstances.”

Jared shakes Josh’s offered hand. His reply isn’t nearly as smooth. He stammers out his appreciation and gratitude, apologizing over and over again as Josh walks into their house. Bags have been packed, Mrs. Smith and Mr. Mayhue have been alerted, and halfway across the world, John is on the phone with his connections at the FBI. From what John can assess so far, the phone number that contacted Jared through phone and text originates from somewhere in New York. The concerns right now are that whoever is calling somehow got a hold of Jared’s new phone number and that it only takes a minute to trace a cell phone signal.

From their four minute conversation, this person knows where Jared is within a three mile radius. Hurriedly, John explained to Jared and Sherri that cell phones are less accurate than landlines, but it’s not impossible to track a signal from a cell phone tower. It would require skill; however, judging by the calm tone this person had at the beginning of the conversation, John is betting that they’ve got skill. What matters now is to make sure they are not allowed another opportunity to use it.

It’s a three hour drive from Dallas to Austin. Josh took a nonstop flight instead, which only took an hour, but it was another hour drive from Austin to Smithville. In a rented, unmarked SUV, he is here to take Sherri and Jared to the Ackles’ property in a suburb twenty minutes outside of Dallas. Plans have changed. Jensen is scrambling to move around interviews so he can leave as soon as possible without breaking his contractual commitments to the studio. They will no longer be meeting in Miami; Jensen will be flying nonstop from Paris to Dallas on the soonest flight he can possibly get.

The SUV trunk opens automatically. Except for their movements outside on the driveway, the rest of the street is quiet. Stars are out full force, but Jared doesn't get more than a second to appreciate them.

“Y’all get airplane sickness?” Josh asks, helping Sherri carry a bag outside. “I mention this because I do, so I brought some gum.”

Sherri sets one of her bags inside the SUV’s trunk. Both she and Jared have two bags each. John has advised leaving their home for three days minimum. Getting the FBI involved might take longer. “I thought we were driving? Jay?”

“Driving takes too long, momma.” Two trips are made to get everything inside the SUV. Josh, like his brother, hands Jared a baseball cap. “It’s nighttime,” Jared protests, holding the Cowboys cap in his hands, wondering if it once belonged to Jensen.

Shaking his head, Josh presses, “Don’t matter, Jared.”

The thought that someone is watching him, through the dark, sticks with Jared, remaining in the back of his mind at all times. He jumps when a dog down the street begins barking.

Once again, Jared is being chased out of Smithville. He isn’t sure which time hurts more.

His phone is tossed into the bottom of his carry-on suitcase and he looks over his shoulder more often than he ever remembers doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! :D enjoy!


	41. Chapter 41

Jared wakes up at nine in the morning, expecting to see Jensen's shoulders.  
  
This bed is different. It has got to be a hotel bed, and Jensen has to be next to him. Shoulders are usually what Jared sees first, followed by a tuft of hair sticking out from the pillows. There is a splash of freckles that stretches like the Milky Way from shoulder to shoulder. Tracing them can yield any kind of pattern imaginable. He has started maps, charting Pisces, Taurus, Gemini, and Leo. In Vancouver, Jared discovered his name laced in a small cluster on Jensen’s left shoulder. The stars are dim now, but Jensen has assured him that come summertime, Jared won’t need a telescope.  
  
Eyes open, Jared searches for Orion’s belt. That’s always the first group of freckles his eyes focus to.  
  
No.  
  
Turning over, facing left instead of right, he checks again.  
  
Not there.  
  
This is how he's woken up for the past four weeks. But it isn't until now, as he lies in a bed that is foreign to him, that the feeling hurts deep enough to sting.  
  
What a pain he must be. What a burden. An international tour should end with rest and relaxation, not this.   
  
If only he were a little older.  
  
If only he and his mother came from a world where a ranch meant a secluded, private, gated estate that stretches for fifteen acres. That's where they've landed; they are no longer in Kansas anymore. Downtown Smithville could fit comfortably right here. Jared rolls out of bed and looks out the bay window in his room. If only he could change every other thing about himself. Then maybe the world would be perfect.  
  
Their party of three arrived at the Ackles' summer home at two thirty in the morning, where Loretta was waiting for them. She was the same as ever to Jared, and not much better to Sherri. But it was late and no one cared about anything except for getting some sleep. A phone call came in at three, as Jared was getting into his bed. Loretta had opened the guest house for them, despite Josh's initial protests. Jared and Sherri didn't put up any fuss.  
  
"There’s more privacy this way," his mother had sighed as she set her bag down in the room where she would be sleeping. "Jay, you need to start watching what you say in front of certain people."  
  
All Jared had said on the walk from the main house to the guest house, which Josh and Loretta escorted them to, was how much he couldn’t wait to see Jensen and figure this out together. It was enough for his mother to tell him to watch out. The phone call came through just as Jared was starting to get a headache. His mother answered it and stayed on the line, since it was John, not Jensen. He called to know if they’d gotten in safely and to tell them that they tried to move Jensen’s schedule around as much as possible. However, the people from GQ Paris couldn’t change their two o’clock interview and it happened to be the one last contractually obligated portion of his tour.

Jensen will leave at four o’clock Paris time. His ticket—plus John’s and his assistant’s—have been changed from connecting in New York to nonstop from Paris to Dallas. The trip is ten and a half hours long, but Jensen will travel back in time, arriving at roughly nine p.m. Dallas time.

Twelve hours seems too long to wait. Jared would love to spend it reprising his role as Burrito Boy.

He flops back down on the bed he slept in. It’s comfortable enough, but everything has a stiff scent to it. Josh explained that they usually don’t open this property until mid-May. The ranch is run year-round by ranch hands, however, typically no one is around in the main or guest houses. When they pulled up to the main house to sort things out with Loretta, Jared knows that he and his mother had the same thought: who cleans this place? The main house alone—as told to them by Loretta—has ten bedrooms and eight bathrooms, plus a den, a game room, and an outdoor area. Outdoor area meant a space that included a fire pit, swing set, and a large yellow slide.

“This is where Mr. and Mrs. Ackles bring their grandchildren for the summer,” Loretta had mentioned, avoiding looking at Jared or his mother.

Thinking about Loretta right now causes Jared to smile and roll his eyes. His entire world and sense of self might be crumbling and under threat from a stalker, but Loretta manages to remain a constant and unchanging force. Josh drove her from Richardson last night, before he left for Smithville, so she could prepare for their arrival. At least she’s a familiar face, albeit a cross one.

From what Jared has seen throughout the main and guest house, everything is decorated in classic Americana style. His blanket is red gingham, the rug on the hardwood floor is navy blue, and the room is painted a crisp white, with one blue wall. Jared wonders who stays in this room during the summer.

After ten minutes of thinking about nothing more than his immediate surroundings, Jared rolls out of bed again and heads to the bathroom attached to the room. He can hear his mother talking on the phone to her boss, apologizing and explaining and apologizing again. She sounds like she hasn’t slept at all. Quickly, Jared uses the bathroom. The water is cold and won’t turn warm, but he supposes that’s just as well. Stepping out into the living room, his mother is already dressed and holding a cup of coffee in her hands.

“Did you sleep at all, momma?” Jared sits beside her, but doesn’t touch her. He feels like a nuisance to multiple people, his mother included. His mess is his mess, but now he has dragged so many other people into it.

Sighing, she shakes her head. “You know I don’t sleep well in any other house but ours.” Jared nods and apologizes. After a sip of coffee, Sherri passes her phone over. “Don’t say you’re sorry right now, Jared, there are only so many things I can handle right now. Call Bill and quit so he can start interviewing people to fill your position.”

“I was gonna give two weeks,” Jared insists, “and I was gonna do it in person.”

“Well that’s not an option for you anymore, is it?” his mother snaps. “You’re not staying in Smithville for two weeks after this. You’re going with Jensen to Los Angeles.”

“Did he say that?”

“We spoke on the phone while you were asleep, yes.”

“What?” Jared stands up. “Momma, you can’t do that!”

Sherri doesn’t have to stand up for her look to have the effect that it does. “Change your tone with me right now, Jared Tristan.”

He is torn between continuing on and telling her that she’s talking to him like he’s five or shutting up and doing as he’s told. He goes with the latter, determining that no one wants to draw out an argument today.

“Yes ma’am,” Jared breathes out.

“Sit down.” He does so, but a little further away from her this time. “I need you to take care of one thing at a time, Jay. First, you need to talk to Bill. I know you were set on speaking to him in person, but that’s not what can happen now. We’re going back home tomorrow, but it’s not fair to Bill to be short an employee who is still on the payroll.” The phone is held out to him and his mother’s tone becomes softer. “Go on. I’ll go see that woman about breakfast.”

“That woman?” Jared asks, raising his eyebrows, and taking his mother’s cell phone.

Nodding, Sherri stands up and wraps her sweater around herself. “Oh yes— _that_ woman. What’d I tell you about Dallas folks?” Before she leaves the living room, she walks past Jared and pats his shoulder, giving a small squeeze. “Thank god Jensen isn’t one of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your patience and sticking with me! <333 hope you enjoy! :D


	42. Interlude

Eleven hours.

Eight thousand miles.

One flight attendant who wouldn’t stop taking pictures of him when she thought no one was looking. Another flight attendant who spilled Coke on him when she realized who he was, despite the shades and baseball cap. His assistant, Carrie, reminding him that next week he has a meeting with his manager, agent, and actual publicist about how to handle his new image as an openly bisexual man in Hollywood. A ten minute delay on the runway. The long line to clear through customs. Hunger from only eating stale plane food all day. The paparazzi who somehow knew that he would be at the airport, who follow him all the way from the gate to the curb. His mother showing up at the airport with his brother. And the first thing she says is, “My God, Jensen, you look terrible.” A report from Josh that his future mother-in-law is pissed, upset, and worried about the safety of her son—and that Loretta is being her usual charming self. And a report that his fiancée is not in any better shape, especially after quitting his job and receiving a phone call from the FBI to set up an appointment at the main house tomorrow. The traffic to get out of the airport. The traffic on the highway, even at midnight. Every awkward second of silence on the way home in a rented SUV. The weight of the past four weeks pushing down on his shoulders, neck, and chest, creating a headache. All those interviews, photo shoots, premieres, lunches, and dinners with people he didn’t want to see or talk to. Four weeks, twenty thousand miles, and every single day waking up alone. Four months of filming this movie. Every moment that he had to exist without those dimples and those eyes, which look at the world with persistent optimism and charm. The thousands of times where he picked up his phone, wanted to call, but couldn’t—or worse, didn’t.

A glimpse of the veranda from the drive. One of the figures standing up. And as the SUV pulls closer, Jensen recognizes the button down the figure is wearing—it’s one of his.

Exhausted. Worried. Desperate.

His mother’s screech when the SUV slows down to ten miles per hour and Jensen drops his backpack in the front foot well and opens the door. The SUV hasn’t stopped, but it doesn’t matter to Jensen. He plows forward on foot, in his jeans, coat, and cap, and he makes it halfway up the drive towards the veranda before his body collides with another.

The roll of their bodies onto the cool, soft grass.

Jensen pins Jared down.

It could be any sky above them.

But it couldn’t be just any arms around him. Jensen closes his eyes and finds his voice.

“Sweetheart, I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay another update! :D 
> 
> so happy to have this scene done. <3


	43. Chapter 43

Jensen does the unthinkable.

He hauls Jared up from the ground and carries him towards the veranda.

Protests are given the second his feet are removed from the safety of earth. Jared clings to Jensen like a cat about to go into water. He shouts that he will never, ever, _ever_ forgive Jensen Ackles if he is dropped like a sack of potatoes. This is not a text message. And it’s not an email. Nor is it a two minute phone conversation.

Struggling up the lane, Jensen’s breath can be seen in the chill of midnight.

“Oh my god,” Jared cringes, “you’re gonna break something.”

To that, Jensen grunts. He has Jared cradled in his arms like a baby. “I won’t break anything. I got… this. I got… oh shit, I forgot about the steps.” The second Jensen approaches the steps, he wobbles, but Jared isn’t sure if it’s a joke or Jensen’s back truly giving out. There seems to be heavier breathing than there was two seconds ago. “Jay, tell me your room is on the first floor,” Jensen blurts out, red in the face.

“Uh… no?”

“Second floor?” Jensen’s jaw twitches.

“No, Jen. Jesus, put me down…”

“What?”

All movement is halted. Jensen stands at the edge of the stairs, but he keeps Jared in his arms despite all reason and the fight that gravity is rightly putting up. “Jay, where’d you sleep last night?”

 Do not look at the ground. Jared focuses on Jensen. His grip tightens onto the jacket Jensen is wearing. “Momma and I slept in the guest house. Can you put me down now? You’re gonna hurt yourself… or me.”

While they were busy rolling around in the grass, the other folks in the SUV have stepped onto the veranda. As he hangs awkwardly in Jensen’s arms, Jared looks up and sees that his mother is speaking to a woman who isn’t Loretta. It takes him a second to recognize who exactly it is that Sherri seems to be thanking. When he does, his mouth drops and he looks at Jensen in shock. “Your mother is here?” Jared gasps. “Jen, put me down! Right now, oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?!”

At long last, Jared is set down, though not as smoothly as he was knocked into the grass.

“She surprised me at the airport,” Jensen murmurs, pulling Jared back towards him by the hem of his shirt. “Surprised isn’t the right word—cornered. Hey, why didn’t _you_ tell me you stayed in the guest house?”

“I didn’t think anything of it. It’s fine,” Jared begins, taking a deep breath. “We had a roof over our heads and a place to sleep.”

“It’s not fine, Jay, you’re family.” The expression on Jensen’s face while he says that is a mix of sincerity and frustration. “Family don’t stay in the fuckin’ guest house.”

Exhaustion is setting in; Jensen’s accent is more apparent. Jared is worried about the state his fiancée is in, but he is also worried about Donna and Sherri meeting. What have they been talking about? Has anyone brought out a knife or a gun? Has there been blood yet? Finally, Jensen and Jared step up onto the veranda, Jensen’s arm around Jared’s waist at all times.

Their mothers both have the same tight, polite, Southern lady smile.

Donna turns to Jared and says a quick hello, which would be fine, but she then says, “What a shame Mr. Ackles and Mr. Padalecki couldn’t be here.”

There’s the knife.

On the rebound, Sherri simply smiles and motions to Jared. “He’s right there, next to your son.”

Before anyone else can say one more word, Jensen interjects. He lets go of Jared for a second only to give Sherri a hug. He asks about her flight and apologizes for the inconvenience. Sherri shakes her head and looks over to Jared again. “He’s safe and I think that’s all that matters, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Jensen slips his arm around Jared’s waist again, but he turns to his own mother. “Mom, I’ll be out back tonight, if you need anything.”

Donna’s expression falters and she looks at Jensen like he’s just eaten a frog. “Why on earth are you going to be out back?”

Calmly, Jensen states, “That’s where Jay and his momma are, so the guest house is where I’ll be staying.”

Color drains from Donna’s face. She stares at Jensen for a second before snapping out of it. There is one person that isn’t on the veranda with them. Immediately, Donna goes in search of her, excusing herself. The clack of her heels on the veranda and into the house signals that she’s pissed. Her Southern hospitality has been called into question—not by her guests, but by her own son.

“Did you know about this?” Jensen asks Josh. “What the hell were you thinkin’?”

“It’s all she had open, Jenny.”

“And it’s not a big deal, so quit giving your family crap about it,” Sherri snaps. She takes a step towards Jensen. “There are bigger things to worry about. Jared spoke to the FBI on the phone.” She looks at Jared, expecting a response.

Shit is happening too fast. It’s a dangerous road when Jared starts thinking that all he wanted to do was welcome Jensen home. His mother is counting on him to be an adult, not to pout about how things should be. This is how things are and that’s that. “Two agents are coming by at noon,” Jared reports to Jensen and John, who has moved closer now that they’re not speaking about personal matters. “They’re gonna take my phone and they want statements from the three of us.” Jared adds that they’ll sit with Jared first, then Jensen and Sherri, then mumbles something about the FBI being really nice over the phone. They weren’t as intimidating as he thought they’d be.

Palm to her forehead, Sherri shakes her head. “I wanna talk to both of you in the morning, before that.”

Jared nods and Jensen gives a soft, “Yes ma’am.”

Satisfied, Sherri faces John. “And you.” John fights a smile. “You’ll walk me to the guest house now. Goodnight, everyone. I suggest y’all get some _sleep_.”

The arm around Jared’s waist gives a squeeze.

“Jay,” Jensen sighs and rests his head on Jared’s shoulder. “Your momma scares me.”

“She scares all of us,” Josh adds, opening the front door.

Despite the easier atmosphere between the three of them, something doesn’t feel right, but it’s difficult to determine what that something is. Mostly everything feels like it’s falling into place. However, that one piece of something scratches its way into the front of Jared’s mind. He half listens to the banter between Josh and Jensen, the talk and teasing between brothers which he would usually enjoy. Since the car ride to Austin, it has gotten easier to be around Josh. His sense of humor is a lot like Jensen’s, and unlike his mother, he seems to be interested about Jared’s life. Many of the people whom Jared cares about are around him, here on this beautiful, spacious property, but the reason for the visit is not a happy one. Jared’s elation at Jensen’s presence is chipped away at when he reminds himself of why they are here.

Side by side, Jared and Jensen walk through the main house, then outside on the lane up towards the guest house. If the sky were any clearer, stars might rain down. Does it always look like this out here?

“Jen.”

“Jay?”

Jared stops them at the front door to the guest house. Josh ducks inside, thinking that they want some privacy. The door shuts. Jared looks at Jensen.

“Check your phone, please?”

“It’s off, Jay.”

“Just… check it?”

Ten seconds is all it takes for Jensen’s phone to turn on and start up. The opening screen causes some happiness--it’s the picture that Jensen took of Jared when he wasn’t looking, in the hotel room overlooking Vancouver. Jensen enters his pass code, which he murmurs is his birth month and Jared’s birth year. When he swipes through to the main screen, he hands the phone to Jared. Everything looks normal. There is an unread email, but no missed phone calls or messages. Jared sighs and begins to apologize, handing the phone back. Jensen keeps their hands touching the entire time. It’s a good feeling.

There is so much to do tomorrow. This is just a manifestation of Jared’s nerves and fatigue.

“Sweetheart,” Jensen starts, his tone softer, “it’s alright…”

Jensen stops talking as a text buzzes through. He looks down at his phone.

A text from an unknown number pops up.

 _I know you_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chills! eek!
> 
> more between the moms later on. XD


	44. Chapter 44

In the morning, Jared wakes up to Orion’s Belt.

For the first time in four weeks, he also wakes up to kisses and freckled hands all over. These mischievous, nearly diabolical hands eventually wander to their desired destination—they grope Jared’s ass and push their hips together.

Under the covers, in the quiet of an early morning, Jensen’s voice is filled with sleep, raspy and deep. He murmurs something that vaguely sounds like a good morning, breathing in deep and closing his eyes again. There are bags under Jensen’s eyes that weren’t as visible last night as they are now. Jared shifts around a little, moving his left arm so that it doesn’t fall asleep, and he hooks his right leg over Jensen’s left leg. The covers are yanked over them both.

Burrito Kings, Jared muses to himself as he plays with Jensen’s hair.

A decision is made not to go back to sleep, though Jared does attempt it once. It’s just about seven in the morning, which is in all respects absurdly early, but there’s too much stomping through his mind. If he thinks about it all too long, his chest gets tight and his breathing quickens. It would be nice to not start out his day stressed out.

Therefore, Jared makes an executive decision: he is going to enjoy this moment.

He just woke up to Jensen Ackles kissing and groping him. In fact, Jensen’s hands have not moved, as he seems to be capable of ass-grabbing in his sleep. Jared smiles, despite his anxiety, and tries to see what would happen if he wiggled away. Nope.

“Mmphrrgghh…” Jensen rumbles, his brows furrowing. His eyes remain closed but the expression on his face is perfect. Another attempt is boldly made. He manages to scoot away an inch before his ass is smacked.

“That hurt!” Jared pouts. “Jen!”

And still without opening his eyes, Jensen replies, “Dun move then, jerk.”

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Do you?”

“…no.”

“Jay.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

“By groping me?”

“’sall sweet dreams this way, Jay.”

A lazy smile blooms on Jensen’s face and he finally opens his eyes. He looks relaxed. Tired, but content with this moment between them.

Jared moves forward and presses a kiss to Jensen’s cheek. His kisses start sweet and almost shy, like if he kisses too much this is going to be an incredibly realistic dream. Real Jensen and dream Jensen have a few things in common—they both pull Jared closer.

“Don’t start,” Jared warns. “My momma is right next door.”

“With a shotgun.”

“Probably.”

“An’ mace.”

Quietly, Jared adds, “Definitely mace.”

To his sleepy, half-awake credit, Jensen recognizes the withdrawal of Jared’s enthusiasm. “Jay, talk to me.” Even more to his credit, Jensen takes his hands off of Jared’s ass and settles them on his waist. It is just as comfortable.

Cleaning bathrooms is easy. Shelving books is even easier. Dealing with the likes of Mrs. Thorp and similar company was not always easy, but it would all eventually be dealt with. There were procedures to follow, rules that provided structure, and policy to lean back on. And before this, Jared had a plan. He was going to take a break for a year, help his mother, and then go to college. Those were all things within Jared’s power to control. He chose his job, he chose to do his chores, and he was going to choose which college to go to as soon as the time was right. But nothing is within his control now. He admits this all to Jensen as they lie in a bedroom Jared could never have dreamed of sleeping in.

As if he hasn’t unloaded enough onto Jensen, Jared admits that the separation this time was worse.

“I don’t wanna be clingy,” Jared says immediately after, meeting Jensen’s eyes. “But I heard from you less in three weeks than I ever have and it… I mean… did I do something? All my stuff’s packed, Jen. All of it. And I sold as much as I could, gave away what I could, so I could help pay… and momma says I shouldn’t have left it to the last minute to tell you I decided to move in with you, but I wanted it to be a surprise and holy shit, I don’t even know where to send my boxes, Jen…”

Two fingers press gently over Jared’s mouth.

Concerned green eyes look back at Jared. “Sweetheart.”

It’s not fair that one single word has so much hold over Jared. It’s not fair at all that everything Jensen is feeling can be transmitted through that word—the weight of it, the cadence, the way it rolls out as if it is the sound between them.

“Take a deep breath.” Instructions are given—even and calm.

For all that Jared can see in Jensen’s eyes, he knows that Jensen can see into his.

“I’ve had stalkers before, Jay,” is said above a whisper. “I found a woman in my bed once. She got in. Took her clothes off. Got in my bed. I don’t know how long she was there. Or what else she did in my apartment. But it sucked. It was fuckin’ awful living there after the whole thing. A year later, it happened again on set. This PA kept selling pictures of me on set—in my dressing room, in makeup, in all these places that I thought I was safe.”

Jensen takes a deep breath himself.

“Those first few times, Jay, I was always scared. I didn’t wanna go out anymore. I had John around me at all times. So I get it. You can be worried. You can be mad that this is happening. That’s fine. But I’m still here and our lives still have to go on. We’re doing everything possible to deal with this, but beyond that… you know… that’s all we can do. You still gotta get out of bed and make me coffee. I still have to go take a shower because I smell like an international flight.”  

Jared can’t help but smile at the suggestion that he has to get up and serve Jensen his morning coffee. A look of relief appears in Jensen’s eyes. “See, got you to smile,” he says proudly. “Am I talking too much?”

“No, not at all.”

“I feel like I am.”

“Well, we haven’t talked much in forever.”

This time, it’s Jensen’s turn to get quiet. He sighs and folds the covers back down. Sitting up in bed, Jensen scrubs his face before looking at Jared again. “I wanted to give you space. That’s… I dunno… some stupid part of me thought you maybe… maybe you could use some room to breathe and make decisions without me breathing down your neck.”

Beside Jensen, Jared remains lying down. He places his right hand over Jensen’s arm.

“Don’t assume I want space, Jen. Please. Don’t do that without asking me first, okay?”

“Did I fuck up too much?”

“No,” Jared answers. “I just missed you a lot. I thought you were mad at me or maybe… I don’t know.”

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

“Good. Can you tell me where my boxes are supposed to go?”

At this, Jensen smiles, his eyes light up, and he plops back down, place his hands on Jared’s ass once more. “Holy fuck, Jay, you sayin’ you wanna move in with me?”

“Uh, I’m not sayin’, Jen, it’s a done deal.”

He still feels oddly guilty for joking around and laughing when Jensen starts to press kisses all over his face, some of them sweet, some of them sloppy. But minute by minute, what Jensen says sinks in, and the tightness in his chest unfurls into something lighter. The more he worries doesn’t necessarily mean anything gets done. There may not be rules or procedures he can follow, but he can lean on Jensen. Jared is determined to one day repay the kindness.

Jensen straddles Jared, the weight and warmth of him welcome. “Jay, say you’re gonna marry me.”

Looking up, Jared laughs before he answers.

“I’m gonna marry the fuck out of you, Jen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for waiting! here we are, back on track. and like i said, momma drama is up ahead, so don't get too comfy. XD


	45. Second Interlude A

“Jen, what was your favorite meal overseas this time?”

“Favorite meal? Uh…”

“You had to have something good.”

“Give a man a minute, I’m thinkin’.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay. Hmm. I stopped at a friend’s house in Rome—Igor, he’s great, you’d like him. He’s from Yugoslavia. But I only had time for lunch before a shoot, and I told him: man, I’m sick of pasta.”

“You were sick of pasta? My god.”

“Whatever, Jay. You gonna let me tell this story or not?”

“Okay, okay! Your friend Igor and you had lunch…”

“Right, so we had lunch…”

“How’d you meet Igor?”

“Huh? Oh, I know him from… shit… from…”

“Did he cook for you?”

“Yeah, Jay, he did.”

“What’d he make?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Uh huh.”

“Sardines in oil, with a slice of bread. Plus a big, big glass of white wine.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Sardines?”

“Don’t make that face. They’re good.”

“I guess… I just can’t picture you eating anything but steak.”

“Hey, I can eat different foods. I’ve got a damned refined palette, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“Jay, you know what?”

“What?”

“I sure did miss your mac’n’cheese.”

“Oh, Jen.”

“What?”

“I make that from a box.”

 

This is the conversation Loretta listens to from the kitchen over breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter coming up right away! <3


	46. Second Interlude B

Jensen was never lonely growing up. There were always plenty of cousins and extended family around. When the cousins went home, he was never too far from the company of his older brother or younger sister. For eight years, Loretta took care of him. She made his beds, prepared his breakfasts, saw him to school, picked him up, and reminded him to mind his manners in the presence of adults.

Exposure to the business started when Jensen was a baby. But those were quick things; just a few photos here and a couple of poses there, that’s all. Childhood was carefully safeguarded. Alan and Donna firmly wanted all three of their children to have the experiences of climbing trees and catching fireflies. In between Dallas and Richardson, Jensen did all of that and more. He chased his sister for a clear country mile when they were small, holding up a frog fished out from the creek and threatening to drop it in her hair. On a dirt back road, Josh taught him how to drive the old Ford that Alan kept as practice.

No matter what kind of scrapes and scratches they came home with, Loretta was there to mend things and make it better.

Until he left.

Until he went far, far away from any of them.

A very selfish, small part of her saw him board that plane to Los Angeles for the first time and wished he would fail—wished he would discover the error of wanting to see Hollywood and ask to go back home. But she knew he wouldn’t fail. Coming back to Texas would mean he hadn’t been successful at acting or modeling. And Loretta knew there was no way Alan’s connections and Jensen’s determination wouldn’t yield good news. Hollywood couldn’t overlook Jensen. Not with that face, not with that accent, and not with that charm.

After six months in Los Angeles, Jensen flew back to Texas for a visit. For every visit after that, a hug or two and a meal she made just for him would gradually ease himself back to his roots. It never took too long. At every visit, he still headed out to that creek.

But the more time he spent away, the shift from Hollywood to Texas was more pronounced. It concerned the family when he started to hide his accent. Why? Wasn’t that was made him stand out from all the other faces? Movies were movies and the business, Loretta supposed back then, was just not hers to understand.

After a year and a half of being in Los Angeles, he brought home a girl.

Loretta doesn’t remember that girl’s name. She does, however, remember that the girl thought it would be appropriate to wear a mini-skirt and tube top to dinner with her boyfriend’s parents. That wasn’t the right girl for their boy, and Loretta knew that girl wouldn’t last. Whatever had attracted Jensen to her in the first place wouldn’t be able to keep his attention for very long. And she was right.

Time after time, relationship after relationship, Loretta was right.

Every person Jensen has dated has been eager to move in with Jensen. They wanted the space, the lifestyle, and the pool. Within six months, Loretta would see them parade in with their things and ask her to do their laundry. As Jensen got older, she became less involved with his day-to-day life, but every time she flew out to where he was staying, someone new would be there, lounging around while Jensen worked. Sometimes Jensen dated other actors or models with schedules much like his. But they were worse than the people who weren’t in the business. They were the ones who asked her for Evian at three in the morning, the ones who took Jensen out and got him too drunk too fast, and the ones who texted other people during dinner.

It was no surprise to see this boy in Miami. He settled in quickly, despite his country boy act. And now he’s gotten what he set his sights on. Loretta doesn’t care if she was supposed to allow the boy and his mother to sleep in the main house; she apologized to Donna, but only to a certain extent. She will not apologize for treating Jared and his mother as who they are: guests.

Jensen’s breakups over the years were a combination of things: conflicting schedules, jealously, breaches of privacy, or serious issues with values and commitment. Loretta has faith in Jensen. He was always patient with the people he dated. And to her, it didn’t—still doesn’t—matter if he dated men or women. He treated everyone well, until they decided to separate.

Now this new momentary attraction has taken a turn for the worse. Jensen proposed. Of course the boy said yes. This is a drastic step up in life for him. And here his mother is, scoping out the property, looking in cupboards and claiming to only be searching for coffee. Right. Sherri plays the game so well.

In the dining room, everyone has gathered for breakfast that Donna is insistent on serving. While plates are passed around, Loretta listens to Sherri go on about expecting to leave by five in the afternoon to get home at a decent hour. Seemingly out of nowhere, John offers to drive her back, mentioning to Jensen that if Jensen and Jared are going to stay here for a few days, his services might not be needed.

“I was gonna suggest you do that anyway,” Jensen says, “Jay, pass me some pancakes, please? I think we’ll stay here through Monday. Do you mind, ma?”

“No,” Donna replies, much too quickly. “Not at all. This is your place too, Jensen. But you really should move into the main house. I can set up your old room.” Silverware and cups rattle as everyone settles in to start eating. “And Jared could stay in Mac’s old room next door.”

The boy was nice enough as someone Jensen was dating. But for someone Jensen to get married to? It’s ridiculous. There’s fourteen years between them. What could they possibly talk about? What’s Jensen going to feel like when he is fifty and the boy is in his thirties? From what Loretta knows—details Donna has passed on—the boy visits Jensen on set. On set! The audacity to visit while Jensen is working and trying to make a living for himself is incredible. And while Jared isn’t intruding, Jensen is putting in twelve to fourteen hour days—plus paying for everything. How can they achieve any sense of balance or equity? Loretta doesn’t understand.

A cup is set down on the table. It sounds closer to the door. Sherri speaks in a firm voice and inquires, “Why wouldn’t they share a room, if you don’t mind me asking?”

What a rude question. Still, Donna fields it gracefully. “Well… the beds are very small upstairs. They’re only doubles.”

“Guys,” Sherri continues on brusquely, “did y’all sleep in a double bed last night?”

“Sure did,” Jensen confirms. Jared is noticeably silent. “But you know what, I think me and Jay are better off in the guest house after all. Is all my stuff still up in my room, mom?”

“Of course.”

Finally, Jared speaks up. “You have a very nice home here, ma’am. I… I can’t say how much I appreciate you taking us in at such short notice.”

Breakfast is a spread that Donna went to the store and picked up herself early this morning. Loretta offered to do her shopping for her, but Donna made a comment about needing to see to it alone; she couldn’t afford any miscommunication or someone deciding to take matters into their own hands. Fine. After the discussion they had last night, Loretta will give Donna space. Alan is set to arrive by three, and Loretta is confident that he won’t care where the boy and his mother slept during their stay.

On the table there are two tall stacks of thick, buttermilk pancakes, accompanied by bacon, sausage, potatoes, and coffee. Loretta is pleased to hear Jensen ask for more of everything. He looks too thin.

“Thank you, Jared. If Jensen needs something, we are always here for him.”

“Mom.” This comes from Josh, who up until now, has been talking to John about football and the construction from Dallas to Richardson. “Don’t you think it’d be great if we showed Jay around? Maybe you’d like to take a ride out with us? We couldn’t talk Sherri into it.”

“I’m better on a motorcycle than I am on a horse,” Sherri comments.

“Oh.” Donna hesitates, a strain to her voice. “I don’t know, Josh.”

Jensen chimes in, sounding as tired as he still looks. “You’re always sayin’ that you never see me. Here’s your chance.”

In Loretta’s opinion, it isn’t wise to leave Sherri alone in either house while everyone goes out for a ride. Who knows who these people really are? They can say they’re from the backwoods of Texas all they want, but even country bumpkins are capable of theft and deception.

After a moment, with a heavy sigh, Donna agrees to ride out with them. She asks John if he plans on partaking in the adventure. John is not Jensen’s first bodyguard. Loretta was fonder of the first one. What was his name? Todd. Tom. Taylor. No, it was Levy. Levy was a nice man. John is rougher around the edges, which has never sat well with Loretta. He doesn’t always show Jensen the proper amount of respect or deference that she thinks is appropriate.

“Donna,” John laughs, “with all due respect: hell no. Besides, I do need to get in touch with a few folks who might have leads on other matters that I don’t wanna ruin the mood with.” John slept in the main house last night, along with Josh. If Jared and his mother need so much protection, Loretta wondered why John wasn’t out there doing his job and Jensen wasn’t in here where he belongs.

Josh and Jensen chat back and forth about taking the horses out, while Donna asks John how he enjoyed Europe this year. Not a word is said from Jared or Sherri. Loretta hears someone clear their throat, but she can’t pinpoint who it is. Josh or Jensen? John? Jared?

“So, Sherri,” Donna starts, her voice stretching thin, “have you always lived in Smithville?”

Loretta hears a soft thump. She doesn’t know what that noise is, but it sounds like someone kicking someone under the table.

Setting silverware down, Sherri replies, “Born and raised.”

“How nice…”

“Well, it’s not much compared to Dallas, but it’s a decent place and we’ve been blessed with honest, hardworking people to call our neighbors.”

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Donna must take a sip of her coffee; Loretta hears her set down her cup.

Another thump is heard. This time, Jensen speaks. “Mom, Sherri and Jay both volunteer at their church for the holidays. You and dad do that too.”

Carefully, Loretta leans against the door. She hears the tail end of, “…you don’t say. Aren’t you two sweet to dedicate time to helping others. Alan and I believe it’s important to do that. Last year we worked with an organization to help single mothers in need.”

Silence blankets the table. A few pieces of silverware rattle. Someone is picking up the table. Loretta hopes it’s not Donna. She shouldn’t be doing that. The guests she is housing and feeding should be offering to pitch in or do something.

“Bless your heart,” Sherri says and her chair moves, “that’s mighty nice of y’all. Jared, hand me your plate.” What is that woman doing with the tableware? Is she playing house with it? Does she know that those are actual plates and not paper ones?

Donna’s chair also moves. “Oh, let me.”

“I insist,” Sherri snips. “You went to the trouble of cooking, and I’m sure you’re tired. The least I can do is pick up. Jared and Jensen can wash the dishes, can’t you two?”

Not a moment is given for either Jensen or Jared to reply. “I’m sure Jensen is tired from his flight,” Donna interjects. “It was so sudden and all.”

“Oh, I do agree with you. But if they’re going to go riding, he might benefit from a light stretch. Dishwashing is very beneficial exercise, wouldn’t you say? Mother to mother, you know.”

More plates and things move around the table. Loretta pushes the door open a fraction of an inch to see Donna and Sherri holding the same stack of plates and silverware. “You’re our guest,” Donna affirms. “I couldn’t possibly let you do these.”

“So it’s been pointed out to us—several times.” Sherri’s smile broadens. Her voice escalates in its pitch, and her words are sharper and more pronounced. “I’m handy with a sponge and soap if you got them. And don’t you worry, I won’t break a thing.”

“It’s really not necessary…”

“Nonsense. Won’t take but a minute.”

Fear for the dishes overrides Loretta’s senses. She doesn’t register the fact that Sherri pries the stack away from Donna and turns towards the kitchen. The door hits Loretta in the face. The plates clatter at the impact. Sherri shoves the door open and stares at Loretta, her mouth wide open, holding the dishes close to her chest. But that’s not what matters.

Behind Sherri is Jensen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a challenging chapter. hopefully it works. also, i'm not southern, so hopefully i got this mostly right. thanks to M for help. :) 
> 
> more drama forthcoming, plus smut and silliness.


	47. Chapter 47

Jared has never seen Jensen on set in person, but he’s seen all of the extras at the end of every single one of Jensen’s movies. A few conversations were had when they were together about Jensen becoming more involved in directing, since it seems to be of growing interest to him. There’s passion in Jensen’s voice whenever he talks about being behind the camera, instructing actors and crew, laying out the unfolding story, and bringing out the core of what lies underneath the words of a fresh script. It makes Jared happy to see that unfold in Jensen.

In the kitchen, Jared is given his first glimpse of what Jensen might be like as a director with a less than willing crew.

“I need you out,” he snaps at Loretta. Authority and impatience is thick and unmistakable in his voice. “None of that conversation was any of _your_ business.” He turns to his mother and uses a similar tone. “She’s not allowed on any of my properties unless I give express permission.”

Instead of accepting the decision Jensen has made, Loretta remains in her place, unmoving and defiant. Her voice breaks with anger and her eyes go back and forth between Jensen and Jared. “You’re making a mistake, Jensen. This is ridiculous. No one does this. Can’t you see? He’s got you all turned around and inside out, even at work. You never bring people on set, ever!”

Donna looks horrified. Jensen takes a step towards Loretta. “That’s enough,” he says, low and cold. “I want you out.”

At this point, John enters the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. Loretta looks like she’s about to spit. She turns and exits, slamming the door that leads to a smaller staircase to the second floor. Jared flinches at the sound. His mother shakes her head and crosses through the kitchen to set down the dishes in her arms. This time, no one fusses over the dishes; they sit in the sink while Sherri turns to face everyone. She makes eye contact with John, and after a moment, he rejoins Josh in the living room. This leaves Donna, Jensen, Jared, and Sherri in the kitchen. Sunlight pours in through the windows, overwhelming and bold, smothering everything in a thick, buttery yellow glow.

Jensen’s voice adjusts to deal with his mother; it’s not as cold as it was before, but not by much.

“I want to know how _she_ knows Jay was with me on set.”

Thinking back, Jared recalls that Donna wasn’t initially aware Jared was in Vancouver. When he explained to her he where he was, she was more than shocked; she was upset. “I told her,” she admits to Jensen, meeting his eyes.

“Was that any of her business?”

“At the time it was.”

“I’m tired,” Jensen breathes, “of all of _this_. What is going on? What is your problem? And I don’t wanna hear that you have no problem, because it’s obvious to me that you do. And fine, you wanna talk, here I am. And here’s Jay, _and_ his momma. Let’s see if we can talk this out, because after this? I’m done.”

Done? The finality of that statement visibly echoes through Donna. “You’re done? Jensen Ross Ackles, you do _not_ quit this family on your whim…”

“I’m not quitting this family,” he interrupts and clarifies, “but momma… you and dad have always told me that family supports each other. I don’t see that goin’ on here. So what’s it gonna be?”

“I let these people stay in our home, JR, what more do you want?” Every word is sharpened. “Do you want us all to be best friends because you’ve suddenly decided to marry this boy? Can you possibly expect us to bond over the circumstances? Your safety is in danger. You didn’t even ask us for our blessing before proposing. I don’t know this boy. I don’t know his mother. All I know is that you have paid for everything in this… relationship… and you continue to go out of you way whenever this boy cries for help.”

The next person to interrupt Donna is not Jensen.

“You stop right there,” Sherri seethes. She takes one step forward, standing three feet away from Donna. “You’ve got some nerve to call my son _that boy_ , especially when we’re standing right in front of you. And another thing, your son is a grown ass man. He doesn’t need anyone’s blessing, least of all from someone who hasn’t bothered to extend one friendly gesture to his fiancée. If all you’re doing is judging _your_ boy, then it’s no wonder why he never asks you to visit or why he never stops by.”

Gasping, Donna’s right hand flies to her chest. “Excuse me?!”

Sherri stands up straight. “As far as I’m concerned,” she looks at Jensen and Donna, “there are some major issues here that don’t involve my son or myself. Neither of you understand each other, and that’s a damn shame, because you know what?” That question and everything after it is addressed to Donna. “You don’t get your head out of your ass and you’re gonna miss out on your son’s big day.”

At once, Donna responds, animated with resentment. “Well, we can’t all jump in joy to this marriage like you’ve been! How can you let your son marry someone fourteen years older than he is? Did you think that was appropriate when they started dating? Or has this just been a lift up for you people this entire time? How my son and I communicate is none of your business.” To Jensen, Donna pointedly asks, “Have you even gotten him to sign a pre-nup?”

Jared fears that someone might take their earrings off.

“You Dallas people,” Sherri snaps. “Always thinking that your money makes you so damn superior. My son is free to date whomever he wants—your son included. But you know what? I _haven’t_ been jumping for joy this whole time. Ever since _your_ son posted that picture to the entire world, _my_ son has had to change his entire life. He wasn’t out yet. He wasn’t ready. The town wasn’t ready. And it’s not your son who has had death threats sent to him directly or crowds of people turn their backs on him. Jensen has been bothered the least in this entire ordeal.” She looks at Jared and then at Jensen. “I’m scared for my son. Not because I don’t trust you, but because you got carried away. You didn’t tell me you’d propose like that. And I didn’t think…” Her chest heaves with emotion. “I never thought I’d have to see my son go through this. Unlike y’all, we’ve never dealt with this before.”

Taking a deep breath, Sherri continues. “Who loses if these two decide to call it off? Has anyone thought of that? Jensen can afford security—financial and physical. But what happens to Jared? After he’s given all of his things away, sold what he could, quit his job, and followed after Jensen? What does he come back to if it doesn’t work out?”

“Do you really think I’d ask for a pre-nup?” Jensen addresses Sherri. “You think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know,” she replies quietly. “I don’t know anything about anything anymore, I guess. But you and Jay need to start talking about all of this. You have to get all of this out of the way before y’all can move forward, or else later y’all won’t have anything to stand on.”

At this point, everyone turns their attention to Jared.

Is he supposed to quell everyone’s doubts and fears?

Is there a magical combination of words that will get everyone to stop shouting and talking over him?

He twists his engagement ring off of his finger and holds it in his palm.

“Jay?” Jensen asks, watery and dim. “Sweetheart?”

What are his options here? Part of him wants to throw a fit and run away from everyone, hole himself up in a room somewhere, and cry for a few hours, ignoring everything. Another part of him wants to flee this place altogether, call Anza and beg her to pick him up. Yet another part of him wants to settle this here and now, but that’s the smallest, tiniest, frailest portion.

What’s the difference between giving up and folding for the sake of someone’s future? Jensen doesn’t even want to live in Texas. His whole life could go on without it. And what else is between them? Unlike Jensen, Jared hasn’t found his calling. He doesn’t know what makes him passionate or what piques his curiosity. Jared is eighteen. If only he were older.

“Do you want this back?” Jared asks Donna, holding out his ring.

“No,” Donna blurts out. “Of course not.”

“You gave me Jensen’s grandmother’s address.”

“I assure you, it was so that you could send a thank you note.”

He won’t let her off that easy. “Nothing that you said then or have done now testifies to that.”

There’s still so much more to deal with, to talk through, and to decide. He has to address his mother’s feelings, Jensen’s, and his own. He has to know where the hell he’s moving, if he’s moving, and what happens next because he can’t go on not knowing. He needs Jensen to come out to Austin and Smithville and spend some time with him, without pressure or schedules or interference from third parties. All of this and more are things that they have put off discussing.

No one, not even Jared, can be Burrito Boy forever.

“Take it,” he insists to Donna. “If you think I’m not serious about Jen, take it back.”

She doesn’t know much about her son at this moment, and that’s not entirely her fault. Jared begins to see the tip of the iceberg here.

They all need to start talking—him and Jensen especially.

But they might not get that chance.

Donna takes the ring back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i say silliness and smut? i meant drama and angst. whoops. XD
> 
> i'm gonna try my best to keep this as realistic yet as quick as possible of a story line. i want to get back to sex and happiness. ;-; 
> 
> i struggled FOREVER with this chapter. augh. please tell me your thoughts. <3


	48. Chapter 48

If life offered phone a friend options, Jared would take advantage of that right this second.

There are a few people he might phone for help, but one in particular stands out. In fact, he can practically hear the response to this situation: "Miami, if you can hold yourself back from smacking that ring out of her hand, I think you know what to do. Give her what she's been serving—stick around and kick ass."

Jared doesn't find it odd at all that Nathan Fillion has infiltrated his head to deal with his future mother-in-law. He does find it odd that it's taken this long. Later on, when he finds the time, he'll call the man himself and thank him for the imaginary kick in the pants.

Although the urge to shout every ounce of frustration and anger at Donna is powerful and tempting, Jared manages to quell it. He is his mother's son. Even if she wasn’t standing three feet away from him, he would do everything in his power not to cause her shame. She is the exact opposite of Donna in nearly every way: in place of a skirt, she has on faded jeans, her sneakers don't make a sound on the floor, and she's wearing one of Jared's old flannel sweaters over a simple, gray shirt. She doesn’t own much jewelry and eight in the morning is too early for makeup; her hair is tied back in a fuss-free ponytail. He knows who his mother is, and in turn, she knows who he is. Jared saves that realization and the gratitude from it for later.

Before they left the guest house this morning, instead of a stern lecture, all Sherri had to say to them was one straightforward line: "Remember," she sighed and hugged them both, "that no matter what, y'all got each other."

Steady.

Turn this around.

Jared takes two steps back from Donna and stands closer to Jensen, on his left. He takes in one, deep, slow breath and adjusts the tone that he's taken a hundred times for difficult customers. At the very core of this, that’s what Donna is acting like. Her behavior isn’t that different from Mrs. Thorp’s. Every word he asserts comes out crisp, with a slight edge and bite to them that he can't help—and doesn't bother—holding back.

"Mrs. Ackles, if it means that much to you for me not to have that ring, I'll respect that. You're Jensen's mother; I will treat you with the same respect Jen has given my momma. And I love that ring, but I love Jensen more. I don't need anything but the man himself to marry him. So please." His voice softens here. He slips his right hand into Jensen’s left and gives a squeeze. "Keep it, since it is so valuable to you.”

The ring is made of platinum, not silver. There are echoes of New York City rain and Miami breezes within that ring. Nothing has changed about this ring since it was given to him. Their initials remain unchanged, and the diamond shines the way Jensen sings. For all of Jared’s inexperience in Jensen’s world, he has, at the very least, learned how to take care of his ring. His hand feels strange without it; there’s even a visible strip of paler skin on his finger from where the ring sat comfortably all this time.

But Jared meant every last word.

Donna's composure visibly falters. Her resolve is slipping. If she were any less of a Dallas woman, her mouth might be hanging open in shock. It’s enough of a tell when her shoulders slump forward. She stands by herself on one side of the kitchen, holding Jared's ring, still warm from him wearing it, and staring at it in disbelief. He’s flipped the tables on her.

Turning to look at Jensen, Jared gives another squeeze of their hands.

"Jen," Jared begins, his customer tone faded out, "I did write to your Nana. I wrote a thank you letter on my way back from Vancouver. She replied back two days ago, but I haven't... I haven't had a chance to sit down and read it. It’s with me though, so we can read it together." He edited that letter five hundred times before rewriting it on elegant stationary. A day after landing in Texas, Jared sent the letter by courier, not wanting to risk it getting lost in the mail. Jensen looks at him with an expression of shock similar to Donna’s, only, he looks at Jared with a hint of awe mixed in.

This is what kicking ass and taking names looks like.

With a bump to Jensen’s shoulder, Jared begins the final piece of business for the morning. This is a good opportunity to get this part out in the open, since the subject has been brought up. Jared doesn’t have to work at being honest. There’s never been any game between them. Plain as anything, he says, “If you want a pre-nup, Jen, I’ll sign it. If that’s what makes the most sense, or even if that’s just what makes you happy, I’ll do it. All you have to do is ask.”

As long as everyone is quiet, Jared takes the opportunity to do something for himself. He gives Jensen’s hand one more squeeze and lets go. This is the part where he’s not as confident. They’ve spent less than twelve hours together after not seeing each other for nearly a month. One of the last things Jared really wants to do is spend time apart from Jensen. But if he’s going to be honest with everyone, he might as well be honest with himself.

Whatever Donna decides to do with his ring, it’s fine by Jared. He’ll cope with the outcome; Jensen will cope with the outcome. They’ve got each other.

After the events from the past three days, Jared needs to be alone.

“Excuse me,” Jared murmurs, “this… right now, I need some air. Thank you again for breakfast, Mrs. Ackles.” He’ll be polite to his future mother-in-law until the cows come home.

Exiting through the back door, Jared is relieved to get out of the kitchen. Morning air soothes him as he stretches his legs on the pathway leading away from the main house and out to the fields. This is beautiful country. Although there aren’t sky scrapers in Smithville, there’s nothing like the scenery of a ranch, surrounded by nothing but a crystal blue, infinite, cloudless sky and acres of sloping sweet grass. His steps accelerate. He has no idea where he’s going. Isn’t that the way of things lately?

A distance away from the main house, Jared pauses to take in what lays before him.

He hadn’t expected everything to be so green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DA! 
> 
> i hope y'all feel the same pride i do after reading this. our baby is growing up. <3 
> 
> told you there's some method to my madness. this is character growth, huzzah. :D


	49. Chapter 49

There are more trees on the property than it would initially seem. Two miles out and there are thicker clusters of tall, thriving oak trees. Winter has made the leaves brittle, but many are holding on. Some trees, upon closer inspection, have several scars on their sides, though never twice in the same spot. Thinking back to what he read in a nature book once, Jared eventually determines that the marks are where lightning struck. Each of the trees with lightning marks is stubbornly alive. They refuse to abandon the land.

After an hour of walking along a faded trail, Jared comes upon one tree in particular that demands his immediate attention. The tallest and thickest of the bunch, this tree has a firm foundation. Jared cranes his neck to see the secret in the tree.

Nestled in the largest oak is a red and white treehouse.

Like everything else on this property, the treehouse is simplistic in its overall design. However, from his place on the ground, Jared can see that expenses were not spared here. The platform of the house has a white picket fence that wraps all the way around, allowing for a porch of sorts. A rope ladder hangs near the front door; two windows are on either side of the front door, with two more windows on every side after. For a minute, Jared wonders if it’s locked. He looks over his shoulder. The main house looks tiny from this distance.

“Might as well,” he sighs to himself and nods. If it’s locked, he can sit on the porch for a spell.

This tree does not have lightning scars. Jared climbs the rope without slipping. He pulls himself up over the edge and stretches out on the porch just to admire the view. How often did Jensen come up here? Was this even here when Jensen was a kid? The paint looks new, but the house has obviously been taken care of every year. The entire thing is about the size of two of his rooms in Smithville.

On the porch, Jared hums a song. It’s peaceful here. Generous shade is above him and while it’s cold out still, the exercise and Jensen’s shirt—another one that he swiped from Jensen’s suitcase this morning—keep him comfortable. This must have been a great place to grow up.

In terms of Texan properties and ranches, the Ackles’ property is on the smaller side. Mr. Mayhue has friends who own ranches in the hundreds of acres. Josh mentioned that the family owns thirty here, mainly for the horses and the space, not for income. Back in the day, it was a working ranch and three times its current size. This land has been in the Ackles family for four generations. Now, it serves as a summer home for anyone who wants to use it. Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, and Labor Day are all major holiday gatherings for the Ackles. This year, they’re planning on holding Memorial Day here instead of at the house in Richardson.

Life moves forward no matter what. Jared can barely think of what he has going on tomorrow.

Resting against the front door, Jared closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.

Breathe. Just breathe.

How much stress he absorbs depends on him. He just had a throw down and it’s not completely over yet. After a minute, Jared shifts to face the door, which is the perfect size for a kid, not so much for him. The knob turns without a problem—aha!—so he shuffles his way through. A large navy blue rug is laid out inside. Pine, oak, and peppermint are prevalent smells. Bean bags for children are in the left corner, near the windows. A play kitchen is on the opposite side in between the windows. Things are dusty from being unused for the winter, but there is a neat order to it all. Nothing is strewn about, nor is anything dirty. Blankets are in a basket on Jared’s immediate right. He lifts a red, crocheted one out; it isn’t musty at all. Whoever packed the blankets put in small, silk parcels of dried herbs and flowers. Jared wraps the blanket around his shoulders, colder now from resting. Pictures hang from the back wall, in basic frames nailed on. Jared crawls over to them and smiles when he sees a Polaroid of a very blond, nine or ten year old Jensen being given a noogie by Josh.

Floorboards creak as Jared moves around, but he doesn’t fear the bottom falling out. Every inch of this place is solid. The oak it’s built on has no rotten branches; he checked all of that before climbing. Eventually, he shuffles over to the bean bags near the windows and rests the upper half of his body on one. The view from this spot is no less impressive than the one up front.

The only sounds around him are his breathing and the wind brushing against the house. Settled in, Jared’s vision drifts in and out between the scenery outside and the empty space on his finger.

After two long yawns, Jared falls asleep.

 

 

In the middle of dreaming about Orion, Jared wakes up, startled by the whinny of a horse.

Snorting awake, he begins to remember where exactly he is. If he recalls correctly, he did not arrive to the treehouse—or to Dallas for that matter—by way of horse.

The red blanket is shucked and he begins a wobbly crawl towards the front door to search for the source. His neck is a little stiff from the way he fell asleep, and his clothes are wrinkled, but the nap has done him good. Blinking, he opens the door and peers out, scanning the ground below him. Another whinny is produced, this time a little more impatiently. Two caramel colored horses snort at Jared’s wide-eyed stare. One has a white mane; the other has a dark brown mane.

For the time being, there is only one rider.

“Jay?” is called out. “Is this the part where I ask you to let down your hair?”

Perched on the edge of the platform, with his legs sticking out from the gaps in the fence, Jared smiles. He shakes his head and shrugs. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt…”

Balancing the reigns and what looks like a briefcase underneath his arm, Jensen returns the smile. “Jared Padalecki,” he heralds, “let down your long hair… or the ladder…uh… please?” The smile continues to be one of the goofiest, crooked, most earnest smiles in all of history. Even the horses seem amused by the display. This is a complete change from how Jensen was a short while ago in the kitchen. He’s warmer now, with the same kind of ease Jared feels.

“Alright,” Jared laughs softly, “get on up here, prince charming.” It may not be his hair, but he unfurls the rope ladder, dropping it down from the platform. He watches as Jensen dismounts, swinging one long leg over the saddle. The horses are tied to the trunk of the tree and Jensen pats both of them before leaving to climb the ladder.

Up, up, and up, Jensen ascends, slipping on a rung and cursing under his breath only once.

With a huff, and a mention that he’s too old for this, Jensen tosses up the black briefcase on the platform. He shimmies up until he is sitting across from Jared. The floorboards creak the same way as before, but this time it’s because Jensen moves forward. Instinctively, Jared’s heartbeat picks up. There’s so much he wants to say, too much he wants to do, and having Jensen physically near him carves away at any sense of restraint he has left.

He’ll have to learn how to cope with Jensen’s absence every time work pulls him away.

But out of everything they’ve been through so far, that seems the most manageable to Jared. He can do it. He can be resilient and resourceful in his own way.

What he can’t do is sit directly in front of him and tolerate the gap of space in between them.

It turns out that Jensen can’t tolerate it either.

Tentatively, Jensen reaches out and places his hands on Jared’s shoulders. It seems strange to Jared that Jensen’s hands would be shaking at all or ever, but they are in this moment. Gone is the playful, light tone to his voice; it is replaced by something deeper, quieter, and reserved. The wind rustles the leaves above and around them.

Less than a year ago, Jared was watching this man on the big screen in The Flyer, repeating every line back to himself, sighing and daydreaming about what Jensen’s actual voice must sound like.

Now he knows that it’s softer than it is on camera.

 “Sweetheart.”

Jared would bottle it up if he could.

“We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the wait! <3


	50. Chapter 50

Jensen Ackles is not perfect.

He snores, he hogs the blankets, and he will use any excuse to buy a new suit.

He will also admit that in his previous relationships, he may have moved too fast. Work might have taken priority over spending time with his exes. And there were a few times when he needed to say something to make things better and he didn’t. He held back. Jensen does not have a perfect record for communication, though he has always been honest.

Sometimes, he didn’t say sorry when he should have.

Sorry is what he starts out with now.

And if Jared will listen, he has a few things to say.

He has never shared the contents of this briefcase with anyone but his father and Josh.

At the age of eighteen, Jensen left Dallas for Los Angeles.

In fourteen years, he has built an extensive professional and financial portfolio. Over those fourteen years, rates were set up for every new project, and relationships with certain studios and producers were crafted with the greatest of care. Patience, discipline, and determination have helped Jensen create a solid image and name for himself, but most importantly, it has all earned him the respect of his peers and employers.

“I get paid two ways: fixed or contingent,” he explains, sitting cross legged, beside Jared. Papers are spread all around them on top of the rug. “Fixed is upfront, contingent is the percentage of a pool after certain conditions are met. Namely, the movie has to turn a profit. I also get royalties from DVDs; it varies from studio to studio and every project, but lately we’ve been able to negotiate twenty-seven percent of wholesale price. When I sign a contract, it’s usually like this.” A thick stack of papers is placed in Jared’s hands. “About twenty pages long, with all the legal fine print and details like the size of my trailer, its location on the lot, and adequate housing for me and my staff. That’s the contract for this last movie. It was a fixed contract; I got two million to sign on and six million during filming. My contingent contract…”

Another stack is handed over for Jared to flip through.

“…takes care of what I earn afterwards. I was able to negotiate fifteen percent of the adjusted gross receipts of the distributors, but I won’t get that until after the film breaks even, assuming that it does. There are taxes to pay on everything too, plus a cut goes to my manager, agent, and staff. Uhm, here, this tells you what I own. I bought the apartment in Los Angeles four years ago for just under five hundred thousand. Last year, I had it appraised and it can go for a little over seven hundred thousand. There’s the house in Miami. Now, even though I own both of these and all of my cars, there’s still property taxes, utilities, and maintenance to factor in. That’s all paid for from an account set up specifically for that.”

Item by item, Jensen explains what he owns, what he doesn’t, what he makes, and how he plans on supporting the two of them for the next five years to start. He lays out his portfolios and copies of the mortgage for the house in Miami. Piles of papers are placed into Jared’s hands. Jensen shows him the life insurance he has, the house insurance, the retirement fund, and the private health insurance policy. These are all things that Jensen will be adding Jared to as soon as they can set up a meeting with his lawyer.

Each and every detail is laid out for Jared.

Nothing is hidden.

Their knees knock together as Jensen moves around again, arranging papers and flipping through stacks to find what he wants. Jensen is still dressed in the same jeans and button down from this morning. There’s a small stain of syrup on the center of his shirt that Jared tried to clean off at the table.

At any given time, Jensen is worth between twenty to twenty-five million. His father set him up with Bill, a financial manager who has been with the family for decades. Jensen’s earnings from the past ten years are invested in stocks, corporate bonds, treasury certificates, and a few other creative places. Nothing is illegal or shady, but Jensen likes knowing that his money is working for him. He meets with Bill once a year to go over things and resign paperwork. Jensen has near perfect credit, but only after Bill stepped in when he was in his early twenties and set things straight. Most of what he buys he either pays in cash or places large down payments on and pays the rest off within a year or so.

For the next five months, Jensen won’t be doing any time consuming projects. That means he won’t be making bringing in large amounts of money like he would be otherwise, but he’s okay with that. This is what he has saved for. If anything happened to him, or if he were suddenly deemed unbankable, he has made sure he could provide for himself—and now, for Jared too. He wants to set up a joint bank account for them. He wants to introduce Jared to all of the people involved in his professional and personal life. He wants Jared to know that he’s taken care of, but that Jensen respects his independence.

Most of all, he appreciates that Jared takes him out for dinner and treats him to things that don’t have monetary value.

"I don't want a pre-nup," Jensen clarifies. "Never have wanted one with you. What's mine is yours, Jay. Take it all."

Jensen’s accent is restrained. There has been no drawl as he explained the ins and outs of the business he’s been in for more than a decade. For a moment, both Jensen and Jared look at the array of papers before them. Every aspect of Jensen’s life is here.

Jensen looks about as nervous as he did before he proposed.

The sunlight that filters in through the treehouse windows isn’t overbearing or obtrusive. It highlights the shades of green in Jensen’s eyes, the freckles on his face, and the lighter pieces of blond in his hair. Those blond pieces are leftovers from his childhood. Pine, oak, and peppermint are joined by the sweet scent of the coffee Jensen had this morning and the spice of his aftershave.

Texas slips in as Jensen murmurs, leaning closer, placing his left hand over Jared’s right.

Jensen Ackles is not perfect.

Because Jensen Ackles is not perfect, Jared Padalecki loves him.

In a deep, quiet rumble, Jensen sings. “You are not alone. I am always there with you. We’ll get lost together, til the light comes pourin’ through. When you feel like you’re done, and the darkness has won, babe you’re not lost.”

There is no photograph or tweet to commemorate this moment in time. It is only the two of them, inside the treehouse, holding hands. Hazel eyes meet green ones. Jensen takes Jared’s right hand into his left. Platinum, not silver, presses into Jared’s right palm.

“Sweetheart, wherever we are, I promise to always have mac and cheese for you to make for me.” A kiss is pressed to Jared’s cheek. “I promise to always keep a box of Fruit Loops around because they’re your favorite. I promise to never swear in front of your momma, unless she swears first. I promise to make you watch _Christmas Vacation_ with me, every single Christmas. I promise to do my best to make you proud. Jay, I promise to make you as happy as you make me.”

Just like the very first time, underneath a crystal blue Miami sky aboard The Yellow Rose, a ring is slipped onto Jared’s finger. Of course, it isn’t just any ring. It’s _his_ ring.

“I give you this ring as a sign that I have given you my heart,” Jensen whispers and squeezes Jared’s hands.

Right on cue, Jared does for Jensen what Jensen has always done for him.

He squeezes right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaaay another chapter up for you. <3
> 
> start to brace yourselves for the end of this fic. we still have some work to do here, but i'd say there are a good five or six chapters left. i don't like to rush things, but i also feel like we're at a good point to start wrapping things up. :) 
> 
> no, you won't get a wedding scene in this fic. yes, there will be a third installment to this verse. :D
> 
> hope you have enjoyed!


	51. Chapter 51

The papers spread all around them rustle.

Jared flips through them all; down to the very last page of the very last contract Jensen has brought him. He is lost in the language, which is unlike anything he’s read before. The party of the first party agrees that the rights belong to the studio. He reads through the difference between a net-deal and a gross-deal, and then runs into something called the first-dollar gross deal that he doesn’t quite understand. Somewhere in the middle of the stacks, just as he’s flipping a page, Jensen brings over the red blanket and drapes it over them both.

“What’s a first-dollar gross, Jen?”

Jensen sits behind Jared, wrapping his arms around Jared’s waist. With a nose bump to Jared’s neck, Jensen answers, “It’s when the studio offers me gross-box office revenue from the first day of release and on. You always wanna go gross on contracts. Never net. Net is after, gross is everything before so you make more money that way.”

A few more pages in and Jared runs into more lawyer lingo. There’s the distributor’s adjusted gross, fixed compensation, remittance from theaters, house allowance, conversion costs, quota costs trade, association fees, and residuals.

One by one, Jensen explains it all.

All up until Jared has run out of papers. He understands the mortgages on the house in Miami and the apartment in Los Angeles; he has no questions about how the maintenance and utility bills are paid; and based on what he can see from a few pages of listings Jensen brought with, he thinks it would be a good time to buy something in Vancouver but only if Jensen has work there on a regular basis. Just to be sure about a few things, Jared goes back and flips through Jensen’s health insurance plan, plus a summary of the checking account he uses for daily expenses. Jared has never seen so much money.

Setting down the summary, Jared takes in a deep breath.

“I think I understand why your momma doesn’t like me.”

“Jay…” Jensen tenses up.

“No, I get it,” he presses. “This happened fast. And she’s right to an extent… as much as I know we don’t wanna admit it. You can’t toss people together and call them family.”

The voice near his ear rumbles. “Doesn’t excuse her shitty behavior, Jay.”

“Well,” Jared sighs, “ _no_ , but I’m not gonna take it too personally anymore.” If Jared had twenty-five million dollars and was about to marry a man he met less than a year ago, then he could see why his mother might be wary of the entire thing. If someone walks right after they’re married, half of that twenty-five million walks away with them. He frowns at the thought of leaving and presses back into Jensen. “I guess… money hasn’t ever really mattered to my momma and I because we never had any. This…” Jared motions to all the paperwork. “…is your life’s work, Jen. You earned all of this. And…” He places his hands over Jensen’s, which are firmly pressed over his middle. “You know what?”

A kiss appears on Jared’s left ear. “What, sweetheart?”

In the tranquility born out of acres of land all around them and the steady lull of their breathing, Jared has read through a total of exactly one hundred and eighty-six pages. His ring is on. Texas stretches out before them and holds Jared close and warm.

Quietly, Jared speaks with a smile and nestles into the vee of Jensen’s legs.

“I’m really proud of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one, but we'll get a longer chapter next up. :D 
> 
> i teared up here, btw. idk how much this fic means to y'all, but it means a lot to me. i'm happy to write this and happy you're here to read it. <3


	52. Chapter 52

Time doesn’t exist in the treehouse. There are no phones, alarms, or schedules here underneath the push and pressure of a man with ginger scruff, green eyes, and impatient hands.

Jared is exactly where he needs to be—flat on his back underneath Jensen.

At first, the contact is careful, tentative. After only a few minutes, it’s strange for Jared to think that they ever have to be separated ever again. Confident, Jensen hooks his right leg over Jared’s hips and tilts forward. This starts something more. Any lingering distance between them closes.

Choice, dark words trickle from fevered lips into the shell of Jared’s ear. The drawl has returned. It infuses into Jared like steam—bleeding into every nerve ending, bubbling over and causing his mouth to water. Insistent and commanding fingers tap at silver. This isn’t a matter of _want_ —it’s _need_. Jensen bears his weight down directly over the sensitive, hard tent in Jared’s jeans. He drags his hips from the tip all the way down. The muscles in his arms flex from holding himself up. Lured by friction and a hardness that matches his, Jared gasps. His legs buck.

Another push.

Jensen keeps his mouth just out of contact—tempting, teasing, taunting.

Draped over Jensen, the red blanket insulates and secures the heat between them. Excitement sparks through Jared as warm, supple lips brush against his jaw. But not his mouth. Jared begs wordlessly—the only noises he can make are from the back of his throat. This is too little. He needs much more. The sharp, firm hips above his begin to move to an unforgiving, relentless rhythm. Papers, business, and worries have been fading away since they gave into each other. Jared is still anxious. He understands reality; it waits for them at the bottom of the treehouse.

Peace and hunger begin to sweep his anxiety back. He has to trust what Jensen said earlier: the appropriate people are involved and handling the situation. That’s why they’re on the ranch. This is a safe place; Jensen and his family have made it so. Despite these facts, it still doesn’t sit quite right with him. It can’t be so simple.

It shouldn’t be so simple.

But surrounded by peppermint, aftershave, and olive green eyes, he allows it to be.

Above him, Jensen can feel the conclusions Jared has come to in the way his muscles relax. A shift occurs. Affection converts into rough, demanding possession. Too much wait. Too much want. The second Jensen moves down, Jared’s thoughts melt. The blanket is tossed aside—Jensen wants Jared to see what comes next.

A pink tongue flickers at the bottom curve of Jared’s belt buckle…

“Oh god, not the treehouse!”

Josh’s voice shatters their utopia.

Jensen’s eyes snap wide open and he knocks his mouth square on top of the buckle. Jared yips in pain. In the span of ten seconds, they are cursing and hissing and rolling away from each other—caught red handed.

From the doorway, Jensen hollers, “Mind your god damn business, Josh!”

“Hey! My kids play in there!”

“Two words…” Jensen’s nostrils flare as he shouts down. “…Prom Night.”

“That was… that’s not…”

“Oh fuck _no_. Don’t give me that shit. I caught you and what’s her face up here…”

“That was almost twenty years ago!”

“And I still have nightmares about it!”

While the brothers argue—Jared is determined to stay the hell out of it—he folds the blanket and tosses it back into its place. He sighs and adjusts his jeans, watching Jensen do the same. So much for alone time. It was nice while it lasted. And although Jared is loathe admitting it, Josh is right; treehouses are probably not the best place to have sex. If Jared ever returns, it would be weird if he saw kids playing in it.

Jared grabs the briefcase and crawls out of the house, towards the platform. For a moment, he sits next to Jensen, who is by the ladder. Directly below, Josh is on his own horse.

“Where are you goin’?” Jensen huffs.

Jared smiles. “Goin’ wherever I damn well please.”

“But…”

“Mmnope. Nuh uh. Mood’s ruined.” He looks down at Josh. “You won’t tell my momma, will you?”

“Well…” Josh returns the smile.

“Good.” He starts to climb down. “Cause I promised my momma I’d keep this nickel between my legs and I can’t disappoint her.”

With ease, Jared jumps down from the ladder. Josh laughs and Jensen grumbles from above. Jared dusts off his jeans and watches Jensen take his time stepping down. The view is spectacular against a clear day and a wide, open sky—there’s a flash of skin when Jensen’s shirt rides up and his jeans do him all the favors in the world.

The two horses Jensen brought with him are still tied to their tree. Jared can see an apple in Josh’s right hand; Josh means to give each of the horses one in exchange for waiting during the debauchery in the treehouse. Josh’s horse is a black one with white spots.

“What’s its name?” Jared toes over towards Josh’s horse. Josh tosses Jared an apple.

“This here is Rocky Road. Y’all got Cookie and Pecan.”

Horses are larger than Jared remembers. The last time he rode one, his mother indulged his ten year old whim to go to a Wild West town. A rare weekend off was taken to drive forty minutes out of Smithville, where Jared got to pan for fake gold and ride a mule. The horses in front of him now are massive in comparison. Cautiously, he reaches out, telegraphing his movement, and touching what looks to be the calmer of the two brown horses. Their hair is finer and softer than Jared expects. He holds the apple out, delighted when his hand is not eaten off.

Completely awed—looking back at Jensen and Josh—Jared asks, “Which one do I get to ride?”

Beside him, Jensen places an arm around Jared’s waist and a hand on the saddle of the horse Jared just fed.

“Cookie is your gal,” Jensen declares. “She’ll guide you, tried and true…”

“Til water don’t run blue,” Josh chimes in.

Cookie and Jared are friends.

 

The Ackles brothers know every inch of their ranch.

Their sister would probably know it just as well—so Josh says—if Jensen hadn’t spent half their childhood picking up frogs and lizards, and then shoving them into her face. Jensen will not answer against those accusations. He was a perfectly well-behaved child and it would do Jared good to accept the fact that his older brother is a lying sack of horse shit.

Jared spends a lot of time on the trail laughing. It feels so good to do that—just laugh. He can laugh at every single joke out here, even the dirty ones, without any worry or care about who might listen or who might take it this way or that. It’s like being with Anza and the group at the Center.

“Now you tell us, Jared,” Josh calls out, from Jared’s left. “What’d you do for fun as a kid?”

“He dreamed of me,” Jensen butts in. He has to holler a little louder, since Pecan prefers to ride out further than Rocky Road and Cookie. “Idn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Cookie gives a choice huff at that moment. “It’s okay,” Jared soothes her, reaching out to pet her mane. “He pulls shit like this all the time.”

Each horse knows the trail by heart; Jared doesn’t have to signal a thing to Cookie. The ease with which the three of them started off surprised him. From time to time, Jensen and Josh do fancy clicks to slow down, speed up, or move closer towards Jared. Jared is content to ride Cookie as she sees fit—steady, and at a pace that allows him to take in the land around him. It has required some adjustment on his part to ride; however, Josh assures him that the awkwardness will go away with time. More than once, Jared finds himself gripping onto the reigns and tensing up because he feels like he might fall off. He has to repeat to himself that Jensen checked the saddle before they started off, and Cookie knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t disappoint.

After a command for Jensen to shut the hell up, Josh asks his question again. They’ve entered a patch of trail with grass that comes up to their legs. The scent of it is sweeter, and it tickles as they ride by.

“I liked climbing trees,” Jared answers with a small sigh. “Y’all have really good trees here.”

“Used to be more.” Josh passes Jared a canteen full of cold water. “What was it, Jenny? That Pappy had?”

Pecan veers off to the right. Carefully, Jensen steers him back, communicating in a way that is foreign and fascinating to Jared. Looking out West, Jensen squints. “Damn… had to be like… a hundred and eighty acres? At least?”

“Pappy was crazy.”

“Pappy was.”

“What was his motto?”

“Which one?”

“The one about the bacon,” Josh snorts. “Oh, wait, I got it… Give me the bacon…”

Jared beams. He indulges in every moment that he’s out here. There are clouds overhead—great, big white ones stretching out into the shapes of birds and crescent moons—but they ain’t botherin’ no one. The three of them are tiny dots on this parcel of land; Jared can’t imagine it being any more or any less. He thinks back to when none of this was here—no main house, no stable, no treehouse. All the way back to when the sky was truly, overwhelmingly endless. All the way back to when the grass rolled in eternal waves.

Without missing a beat, Jensen finishes his Pappy’s motto. “…without the sizzle.”

“Do God’s will,” Josh continues.

“…whatever the hell it may be.”

“Oh, this one too—you’re two sandwiches short…”

“Of a picnic, I remember! He used to say that to you all the time.”

“He did not. I recall him sayin’ that to _you_ , Jenny.”

“Fuck you, go cork your pistol.”

“Hush, you’ll upset Pecan. He don’t like swearin’.”

“My horse is fine, jeez. Wait! I got one for Jay!”

“Aw, here we go,” Josh sighs.

“Jay, you listenin’?”

“Yeah, Jen, I’m listenin’.”

“Okay, you sure? Cause it’s good.”

“I’m listenin’!”

“Jay,” Jensen announces, to their party and the entire state of Texas, “my barn door’s open and my mule’s tryin’ to run.”

 

As easy as the grass flutters in the wind, Jared looks over at Josh, then at Jensen, and says, “Jen, you’re dumb as dirt.”

Then Josh’s phone rings.

The FBI is here early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL for your patience and dedication to this story. <333
> 
> i'm in the midst of the holiday season (i work retail, yay me), finals (ugh), and two big bangs (why...?). so it's hell up here, but i do love the heat. XD forgive me, but all other verses except this one and Chicago are on hiatus for now. they'll come back soon, when i'm not so swamped. 
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed this! i had fun researching texan sayings. XD
> 
> hopefully it won't be too long between updates this time. <3


	53. Chapter 53

Emilio and Bill are the two fulltime ranch hands that the Ackles have employed for fifteen years. Each of them extends a friendly, warm welcome to Jared, commenting on how well Cookie gets along with him.

Their responsibilities on the property are to first and foremost take care of the horses and a small herd of goats. With the FBI five minutes away from the property, there isn’t time to visit with the goats at the moment. However, Emilio, an older Mexican gentleman, tells Jared he is welcome to drop by the pen any time he’d like.

“One of the gals just had a baby, damn thing is adorable. And you don’t hear me say that word a whole lot,” Emilio comments.

Jared would much rather stay and groom Cookie or pet a baby goat instead of talk to the FBI and relive the entire experience that has made the past few days anxiety hell. The stables—a building that is easily larger than Jared’s home in Smithville—are extremely well-kept, as is everything on the Ackles’ land. Work is plentiful in the summer; Bill outlines some of it here and there, as the horses are lead back into their stalls. Temptation to dawdle pulls at Jared, who hangs onto every word Bill says about maintaining the integrity of the land and patching the fence. Jensen places a gentle hand on Jared’s shoulder—that’s the signal to leave.

Once again, Jared is in the middle of Josh and Jensen. Except this time, they’re walking on a stone path from the stables to the main house. The stones vary in color from gray to red to blue. A few of them have names on them; Jared assumes they are family names.

“Jen?” His steps slow in an effort to delay this meeting.

“Sweetheart?” Jensen’s steps slow a touch.

“So… I’m nervous.”

“Me too.”

“You too?”

“Yeah.” Somewhere along the trail, Jared got hot, so Jensen is carrying the over shirt he was wearing, which happens to be Jensen’s anyway. It’s slung over Jensen’s left shoulder. “I’ve played a FBI agent, but meeting with one is sorta different.”

“Can we forget about this then, after the meeting?”

“Fuck yes. I’m all for movin’ on.”

“It’s stressful.” Jared’s stomach has been twisting in on itself since Josh announced the text from John.

As he walks, Jensen turns slightly to face Jared. “You know what’s also stressful?”

“What?”

“Planning a wedding.”

A combination of that statement and the grin Jensen gives following it, has Jared’s stomach doing flips. These, however, are flips he doesn’t mind. He wonders if Jensen knows that if a preacher showed up and offered to marry them here and now, Jared would totally do it. “Jen.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Sometimes you’re not dumb as dirt.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Within a few feet of the back porch to the main house, Jensen bumps their shoulders together. “Did you have some fun, sweetheart?”

“Of course I did. I like hanging out with y’all.”

“Mostly me, though, right?”

“Well...”

Josh cuts in, “I’m the older, smarter, more fun brother, Jay, don’t let this one fool you.”

Jared rolls his eyes so hard, they’re halfway to Oklahoma. Before they can get carried away again, and before they have to head inside, Jared stops and faces Jensen. They stand an inch apart, closer than most people would deem necessary. Jensen seems to notice this as well, but he takes initiative Jared hadn’t realized was possible. Jensen wraps an arm around Jared’s waist.

“Jen, you didn’t tell me how you got your momma to give my ring back.”

With a shrug, Jensen replies, “There wasn’t much to it, Jay.”

“Oh god, you didn’t wrestle it from her hands did you?”

“No, but that would’ve been my next move.”

“What’d you say?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“I just asked her something.”

“What?”

“Are you proud of yourself? Then she gave it right back.” Jensen sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “That’s… I’ll be having a talk with her and my dad later.”

“Huh.”

“Yep.”

“What’d my momma say?”

An amused smile breaks out. “That’s the best part. Right before she left the room, she said, ‘Damn, I’m good.’”

No one could argue with that.

 

 

One of the most valuable assets a bodyguard can possess is connections. Favors don’t hurt, either.

It is extremely rare for the Bureau to respond within forty-eight hours of a potential case, especially for stalking. For pressing cases, appointments and meetings typically take up to two weeks to arrange. A two-day turn around means that John knows the right words and people. What he helped with cannot be said—he doesn’t kiss and tell—but he’s been in the business long enough to know when to involve the feds. There’s a larger case in progress at the Dallas branch that his connections have broken away from for a few hours. Their visit to the Ackles’ property will be short and confidential. John’s contacts arrive in a vehicle Jared has gotten to know fairly well by now—a black, unmarked SUV.

Agents Wilson and Tep do not waste time.

Both are women in their forties, with about twenty-five years of experience in the Bureau between them. Dressed in plain, black suits, Agent Wilson and Agent Tep shake John’s hand when he meets them outside in the driveway. Once inside, the agents immediately ask for only those directly involved to be seated in the living room. Donna doesn’t make eye contact with Jared or anyone, even Jensen, as she excuses herself. Just before he leaves, Josh gives both Jared and Jensen a pat on the back. All doors in and out of the living room are shut. Sherri, Jared, Jensen, and John sit on a couch. Jared tries to focus on breathing.

Neither agent is brisk or rude, but they are on a schedule. It is clear to everyone that although they are familiar with John, they are at work.

Never in a million years did Jared think he would be in the presence of actual FBI agents. He also never thought he’d ever have a problem that required federal intervention. Although Jensen and his mother are right next to him, Jared is still nervous. What if he says the wrong thing? What if they accuse him of overreacting? Maybe he should have just told the stalker off and not said a word of it to anyone.

Jared grips onto Jensen’s hand.

Agent Wilson begins a preliminary introduction. Investigations can take anywhere from the work of a few days to an entire team’s worth of energy for years. Criminal activity of this kind—repeated cyber stalking—is based in obsessive behavior, which typically leaves patterns. Her words are short, with no trace of an accent. She emphasizes that the more experienced the perpetrator is, the more difficult it becomes to track them. From what John has evaluated and sent over to them since the phone call Jared received, they believe the person behind this is a repeat offender. Agent Tep carries a specialty in psychological profiling; she briefly explains that the stalking is repeated and unwanted attention harassment, contact, and/or any other behavior directed at a person or persons that would cause a reasonable person to feel fear.

Most stalkers, she continues, know their victims.

What makes these investigations time-sensitive is the potential for the perpetrator to unexpectedly confront their victims in person. The goal here is to put an end to this case before it escalates.

“If we even find out who this person is,” Sherri asks before the agents proceed, “what then? A restraining order doesn’t do much; it’s just a piece of paper.”

The agents look at each other. Something silent passes between them. They have been partners long enough to know how to answer the question.

Agent Tep has a slightly more outgoing demeanor. “Ma’am, depending on the extent of this case, there could be several federal charges against this individual, most of which will carry sentencing. That can range from court-mandated and supervised therapeutic help to actual jail time. You are advantageously equipped with access to lawyers to help ensure that the maximum penalties are pushed, if you so choose. You are also capable of utilizing other, third party resources, although the Bureau has no connection, affiliation, or knowledge of those resources.”

Continuing, Agent Tep details that there are five stalker subtypes the Bureau uses to classify stalkers. For the purpose of this case, they have been focusing on the intimacy and rejected subtypes: where an individual identifies a person, fixates on them, and carries on as if they are in a relationship with them. They hold to a delusion that their love is reciprocated. The rejection portion is born out of attempts to reconcile being ignored. Something shatters the delusion of their relationship—such as the announcement of the victim’s engagement—and drives the individual to seek revenge.

Time is not allowed for Jared, Jensen, and Sherri to sit and process this information. The agents need to start conducting interviews. Each interview will be thirty to forty minutes each, which seems simultaneously like an eternity and not nearly long enough. John has bagged and handed over both Jared and Jensen’s cell phones; Agent Tep asks Sherri for hers as a precaution. Sherri sighs, shakes her head, and hands it over. Jared pats her hand.

This is the opposite of being in the treehouse.

It is instinctive for Jared to panic, and honestly, he thinks to himself, who wouldn’t panic? Knowing that his mother and fiancé are just as nervous about this is reassuring. It’s not just him dreading this or everything after.

While the three of them were out on the trail, John set up the office on the first floor of the main house for the agents to use. As the agents do a sweep of the room, John explains that the interviews will be solo. Their answers must be completely honest. Even the smallest detail could help the case.

Jared is first. He stands from the couch in the living room and contemplates the reality of throwing a tantrum. One step forward and Jensen grabs his hand, quick to his feet. Their eyes meet.

“You are not alone, I’m always there with you,” Jensen says softly, giving Jared’s hand a squeeze.

And because Jared knows Jensen could use it too, Jared squeezes back.

 

Jared’s interview lasts exactly thirty-five minutes.

Agents Wilson and Tep have done interviews like this hundreds, possibly thousands of times before. They are practiced in the flow of questions, the tone of their voices, and in explaining to Jared exactly how much detail they need and where to hone in. The inflections to the man’s voice, the types of words he used, and the pattern of speech he had are all increasingly important as they proceed with the case. Moment by moment, the agents go over that night, most of it still fresh in Jared’s mind. It is odd that this only happened a few days ago; so much else has happened since.

Their conversation is recorded. Agent Tep makes handwritten notes and verbal ones. She finds it peculiar that the stalker called after Jared closed Mayhue’s. It’s possible that the stalker took a shot in the dark at the time and assumed it was early enough that Jared would still be awake, but late enough to guess he was available. Or it’s possible that the stalker has an understanding of Jared’s work hours. Agent Wilson is quick to assure Jared that there are many possibilities here and it won’t help Jared to consider each and every one. What he can do is rely on the advice of others who have been through similar situations and figure out productive, healthy ways to cope with what is going on.

Information is collected, statements are documented. He is asked about what has been going on recently in his life—that takes a while to tell—and who has had contact with lately. Each incident in Smithville, his car and Mayhue’s being vandalized, is told to the agents and they make a note to contact Smithville’s station. Jared warns them that they might not be very helpful; Agent Wilson nods and Agent Tep smiles and shakes her head. The Smithville police don’t want the feds involved anymore than the feds want to involve ass backwards, discriminatory police departments. The Smithville police will turn over every piece of evidence and be _very_ helpful, to the point that they will fall over each other to get Agent Wilson and Agent Tep out of there as fast as possible. Smithville police are the least of their worries. Unfortunately, Agent Tep adds, all three incidents may be related. The same person could have committed those crimes in Smithville and have been stalking Jared until something triggered contact.

“Is everyone a suspect then?” Jared asks from his seat. “I mean… it could literally be anyone, right?”

As Agent Tep examines Jared’s phone, Agent Wilson sits down in a chair across from him. Her brown hair is swept back in a neat ponytail; not a hair is out of place.

“I need you to look at this from a different perspective,” she says, her voice devoid of any accent. “Don’t focus on who it could be—that is our job. I’m going to give you some advice. Are you ready?”

Jared nods. Agent Tep pops open Jared’s phone.

“First and foremost, you must not make any contact with this individual. You may feel guilty that this is happening and you may try to take responsibility for it. However, it is in your best interests to keep in mind that you did not ask for this to happen and you cannot control the actions of others. Do not try to resolve this situation on your own. Do not reach out to this person. Do not respond to pleading, flattering, or threatening communication. Do not talk to him on the phone; hang up the minute you hear this same voice. Do not discuss this matter with anyone who does not need to know; do not talk about him in your private, day-to-day conversations. Ignore him completely. Do not allow him to be part of your life.”

Sinking into the couch, Jared sighs, his shoulders slumping forward.

Before he can sink further into his thoughts, Agent Wilson speaks again.

“Jared.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Once we find this individual, John will determine the best course of action.”

“What do you think that will be, though? I mean, I don’t want anyone to…”

“I cannot say for certain what he will choose to do, but I can say that a majority of the time, once we can identify the vulnerabilities and susceptibilities of the stalker, they let go.”

“Oh.”

She leans in, resting her elbows on her knees. “Is there anything else you might have noticed since your engagement that has given you cause for alarm? Even if you brushed it aside then, anything you can think of?”

There are more places to think about other than Smithville. Jared thinks back to Vancouver and Miami, even the Dallas airport and Austin. Nothing and no one have stood out to him as being exceptionally odd. It is difficult for him to determine what is someone bothered by his sexuality and what could be malice. “No ma’am, I’ve said everything I can think of.”

Agent Wilson nods. She looks over at Agent Tep, who has Jared’s phone in pieces on the desk. Jared doesn’t even know whose desk that is. Maybe it’s Alan’s.

“You didn’t have a tracking device on here,” Agent Tep confirms. “That’s a good sign.”

Once again, the agents make eye contact. Agent Tep tilts her chin up. Agent Wilson turns to Jared.

“One more piece, Jared.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Hands clasped together, Agent Wilson’s tone softens a hair. “Out of anything I have told you here, let me emphasize the danger of taking matters into your own hands. If this is handled incorrectly, you open yourself up to extortion, blackmail, more harassment, and a host of other criminal offences and activities. Do not contact this person. Do not allow them into your life anymore than what has already happened. Are we clear?”

“Yes, very.”

“This is a person who may have an underlying, severe mental disorder. Many of these individuals are in need of psychological help. However, it is not your job, Mr. Ackles’ job, or your mother’s job to assess this situation or its solution.”

Lastly, as Agent Tep places Jared’s phone back in a plastic evidence bag, she asks Jared to think of a place he can go to in an emergency, somewhere that would offer him privacy, with people he can trust. His answer is the Center in Austin. The agents take notes of the address for the Center and Jared’s contacts there. It is noted that when the agents are in Smithville, there will be no contact between them. They will be in contact with him if they need anything. A new phone with an entirely new number will be issued to Jared by John, and that number will be on file if they need more information. One nearly blank card is given to Jared by Agent Tep. The letter T is on the front and a phone number is on the back.

“That’s me,” she says with an easy smile. “If anything new happens, don’t hesitate.”

The three of them shake hands before Jared is excused. He is thanked for his cooperation.

Jensen is up next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your patience! <333
> 
> more later, super late to work. only a few more days left for this madness at work. thank goodness!


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Amarillo by Morning" by George Strait while you read. <3

Someone, most likely Josh, directs Jensen to the back porch, where Jared has taken a post sitting on the steps.

Jared’s life in this moment is a series of concentrated breathing exercises. He sat with his mother in the living room while Jensen was with the agents. Sherri wrapped her arms around him and reminded him of three Christmases ago. On a couch in the Ackles’ living room with things so fine and new around them, Sherri reminisced out loud about how that Christmas was particularly tough for her financially.

 “You got me socks and some of Jensen’s movies,” Jared insisted. “It’s not a bad memory, momma.”

The weight of her voice is with him long after; she left to speak with John a few minutes before Jensen finished. Jared came out here to settle his own thoughts.

“That’s my point, Jay,” Sherri had said, confident and kind.

“What is?”

“It was just enough.”

 

Jensen sits down beside Jared, their thighs touching.

Neither of them says a word for a stretch of time.

John has new phones for them inside. No one is eager to reconnect with the outside world.

The official plan so far is to spend the next three days in Texas before heading out to Miami. Once they arrive, their time will be taken up by moving Jared in. All of his boxes will travel one thousand miles to an entirely different part of the country.

Miami has its charms; Jared is comfortable in Jensen’s home. Not one negative thing can be said about it all, except perhaps that it lacks a few four legged friends. Jared misses drinking beer, squeezing limes, and tumbling into the hammock after a brief dip in the pool. He misses the walk-in closet filled with perfectly tailored suits and ties of every color just waiting to be worn. The back porch is different from this back porch; they had slow, lazy sex on the lounge chairs in Miami, unbothered by the sun. Jensen’s freckles multiplied and Jared took upon several expeditions to taste each and every one. He licked the salt, lime, liquor, and come off of Jensen in the steady, sizzling heat of Miami.

They went to bed together and woke up together.

He misses that place.

But he misses Texas already.

And here he is, in one of the prettiest parts of it.

He can’t take his eyes off the landscape.

He’ll go wherever Jensen needs him to be. He’ll move all of his boxes and bags and settle in. Jared can and will adapt, even if it means moving all the way to Vancouver. It feels right to be with Jensen; what does any of this matter, as long as he’s with Jensen? What does it matter that he may only see Texas once or twice a year from now on?

Something as quiet and seemingly unnoticeable as a sharper intake of Jared’s breath catches Jensen’s attention.

“You really love this place, don’t you, Jay?”

Jared nods. Why wouldn’t he love it? How could anyone fail to notice the striking splendor of acres of sweet Texas grass and an infinite sky?

A kiss is pressed to Jared’s cheek and once again, freckled arms securely wrap around him.

“Jen?”

“Sweetheart?”

“Sing me something?”

“Any requests?”

There’s a smile when Jared names the song. Jensen noses the line of Jared’s jaw and takes a deep breath in. Jensen’s birthday is in a week. Jared has been caught up in so much that he hasn’t had time to properly plan very much. What he has isn’t extravagant. It isn’t high-end. It isn’t luxury.

What he has is what he has.

He hopes it is just enough.

The way Jensen sings doesn’t need anything to accompany it. His voice works without guitars or drums or assistance. George Strait himself doesn’t have a thing on the way Jensen Ackles sings.

And Jared is not biased.

Especially not when Jensen’s beard scratches at his cheek, or when his slow, drawling rumble sinks into him, providing warmth that goes deeper than the surface. They sit together, just like in the treehouse or in the hotel room, or anywhere else that they have been. This is how it will always be—not an inch of space between them. Chest to back; freckled hands clasp over Jared’s.

“Amarillo by morning, up from San Antone.” Jared’s ring is smoothed over. “Everythin’ that I’ve got, is just what I’ve got on.”

There it is.

Jared hears it.

He hears the vacancy he left in Jensen’s life while he was away. He’s seen it, felt it, and known it. But it’s here now, plain and open in the thrum of Jensen’s voice.

“When that sun is high in that Texas sky, I’ll be buckin’ at the county fair. Amarillo by morning. Amarillo, I’ll be there. Amarillo’s on my mind.”

Alan will arrive an hour after the agents leave.

The Ackles will convene to speak to each other.

Meanwhile, Jared, John, and Sherri will remain in the kitchen and plan for the next few days.

After their discussion and a brief one with Loretta, Alan will privately invite Sherri to stay for dinner.

She will politely decline.

It has been a trying past few days and all she wants is to be in her home. John will book her a plane ticket with his own money, and he will see her all the way back to Smithville, until he’s at the front door.

Alan and Sherri only spend two minutes together, but those two minutes will be more peaceful than the entire morning with Donna. It is clear to everyone that Alan is here as mediator.

Apologies will be extended from Alan. Much later on, Sherri will describe Alan as an example of a good ol’ Texan man—willing to shake hands and talk over a beer and barbeque. In this moment, Sherri will accept his apologies to smooth things over and leave on a better note than they arrived. Jared will do as his momma has taught him and give people room to make mistakes. Around five, everyone will gather in the entryway to say goodbye to Sherri and John. Sherri will go down the line of people; she will thank Josh, wish Donna the best of luck with her son, and make it clear to Alan that they are more than welcome to visit Smithville.

Jensen and Jared will say their goodbyes out by the car. Dallas folks—Sherri will murmur to Jared, loud enough for Jensen to hear—sometimes need a swift kick in the ass.

Jared will hold her to himself so tight.

It won’t take long for their lives to pick up again, moving at the same frantic pace as always. There will be things to do, places to be, and so much to talk about to get there.

For now, Jared is wrapped up in Jensen, which is how it should always be.

It’s how he prays it always will be.

If he can have one thing in his life, he hopes it’s this.

The song is coming to a close. Jensen gets into the very last part—sad enough to be pure country, deep enough to send a chill down Jared’s spine. “Amarillo by morning, up from San Antone.” This is one of Jared’s favorite songs.

It must be one of Jensen’s too, because he strums the last few, sweet and sad notes over Jared’s hands.

“Everythin’ that I’ve got, is just what I’ve got on.”

Jared doesn’t have half of what Jensen has. But he’ll give it all freely.

“I ain’t got a dime, but what I got is mine. I ain’t rich, but Lord, I’m free.” Jensen kisses Jared’s cheek and gives a squeeze of his arms around Jared. “Amarillo by morning. Amarillo’s where I’ll be. Amarillo by morning. Amarillo’s where I’ll be.”

Jared can take this moment with him and always have a piece of Texas.

This too, is just enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> siiiigh. this chapter. i love this song. i am forever indebted to M for introducing me to this song. if there's one song that i think is jared's song, it's this one. it's so him. and to imagine jensen singing it while sitting so close, oooh... chills. 
> 
> thanks for your patience! from here, we move into the end of this fic. but there will be another twist, a reveal, and next chapter is just filthy smut. XD 
> 
> let me know what you think of this chapter! thank yous to MA and MC for being such lovely betas.


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tip of Your Tongue" by The Civil Wars while you read. <3

There are gifts from Paris.

From Rome.

From London.

Jensen unpacks them all, laying them out on the bed for Jared to look at, think about, consider.

Midnight is cool. A single lamp is lit, casting the room in a warm, decadent glow.

Yes, is on the tip of Jared’s tongue.

Soon enough, so is Jensen.

 

Submerged in the drag and press of plush, slick lips, Jared eases into the view of the moon above him.

Full moon. Full mouth.

He is laid down. Stretched out. Kissed—but more than that. Everywhere, all over, from the sensitive insides of his wrists to the gentle pulse and quiver of his throat, he is overcome.

Everywhere except his mouth.

Clothes remain on, a small detail. Their hips line up. Jensen bears down. But that isn’t what causes a gasp and moan from Jared.

It’s the flutter of fingertips tapping, tracing his lips.

Nothing more.

 

The lamp is shut off.

Dark green eyes watch the first two gifts slip on, awash in the slices of silver moonlight.

First gift.

A robe, thin as tissue, sumptuous and sensual in its design. The length of it is white with the faintest rosy tint. Detail lies in and around the rounded, milky pearl buttons, surrounded by sewn gold. The sleeves open, creating air and motion with every movement. A train lays underneath him, the back being longer than the front, creating a billow.

The hem in front reaches Jared’s lower stomach, resting there against his skin, gold on silk.

This is finery.

Hands struggle to restrain themselves; Jared can tell by the flex. He looks up from his place, content with their focus. Diminutive crystals are threaded into the hem, clustered around pearls, tied together with spun sunlight. The hem shimmers over the mound of Jared’s flushed cock.

Second gift.

An ankle bracelet is fastened over Jared’s left ankle. The delicate bones there are smoothed over by feathery touches, adjusting small gold charms. Three bells the size of dimes wraps around; their noise is sweet, effervescent.

Fingertips skim over the tight peaks of Jared’s nipples, ghosting over silk.

This is torture.

Jensen remains dressed.

Five fingers sweep to the center of Jared’s chest. The robe folds open with nothing more than a sharp breath. Jensen is poised. Jared is transfixed; what will these fingers do?

Their eyes lock.

For a moment, it is too much. Jared is inundated. More than hunger touches him. It is pure, unquestionable adoration. This is the cause of a noise that somehow escapes his lips, a breathy whisper of a name he means to shout but cannot find the volume. His breath is stolen by the worship in progress. Languid fingers sail south, pressing down, until the slope and curve of hipbones is reached.

Jared breaks the service.

He interrupts the prayer.

This is no dream; this is no lonely daydream, no ethereal glance out of a window thirty thousand feet in the air.

He is here.

His hands reach the stubbled outline of a firm jaw line.

They are drawn together.

Jared keeps Jensen on the tip of his tongue.

 

Jared watches Jensen’s throat work.

This is different than before.

Jensen’s silhouette rises and falls with his movements; he maintains steady pressure with the suction of his lips against Jared’s cock. His cheeks hollow. Spit is added. The insides of Jared’s thighs are gripped until they are as pink as Jensen’s lips. Jared arches into wet, sultry slurps and swallows. Heat rises all throughout his body. Jensen takes him to the base, his eyes closed, long eyelashes resting against freckles.

The sight of this, Jared commits to memory.

Every pulse and tremor of Jensen’s throat is wicked, terrible, brilliant agony.

Unhurried, Jensen begins to draw up. A reprieve. A rest. Jared punches out a long sigh. His thighs squeeze when Jensen redoubles his efforts, this time, focusing on the sensitive crown, flicking his tongue underneath and circling around. Jensen’s lips press just past the edge; he rotates his mouth, changing the angle, sucking, pulling, and adding more spit. Some of it escapes the tight seal and dribbles down, the sensation of it causing Jared to twitch and groan.

An offer was made. Jared could do the same, simultaneously.

Jensen hushed him with a kiss.

And now, this.

Jared begs him without words—tugging at tawny hair, his hips stuttering, and the length of him aching.

 _Please_.

The bells chime as Jared hooks his leg over Jensen’s shoulder. This is hardly enough and yet it is too much. He doesn’t want to come like this.

One last swallow is made. Jensen chokes beautifully.

He pops off slow, suckling, lapping.

Jensen smiles, eyes half lidded, licking his lips.

Too much.

Jared could cry.

They haven’t even started the second verse of a familiar poem.

He wrenches Jensen close to him, kissing away the taste of himself. His movements are not elegant. Poise is lost on him now, scratching and clawing at Jensen’s back, yanking up the black shirt he’s wearing, desperate to feel the muscles here.

Tangled up, with Jared’s legs wrapped around Jensen’s waist, they roll over.

Clothes are tossed aside. Jared straddles thick thighs and pushes their cocks together, his slick and sticky against the hard, fat swell of Jensen’s. Jared is pleased by the sharp inhale Jensen takes. The robe falls to Jared’s shoulders, draping over his thighs. Jensen reaches down and cups Jared’s ass, hands over silk, groping, squeezing until a yip is given from Jared. He can feel the marks.

Jensen places his right hand on the side of Jared’s throat, rubbing his thumb over a patch of responsive, tender skin.

Jared is flipped; Jensen’s hand never leaves his throat.

The bells jingle.

The robe ruffles with the shudder Jared gives; he hears the sound of a cap snapping open.

He closes his eyes as his hips tilt. He curls his fingers in the short hairs over the nape of Jensen’s neck. Cheek to cheek, their breathing changes as Jensen pushes in.

It doesn’t hurt. Jensen is careful.

Heavy, he eases in, inch by inch, his own breath hitching every time the bells ring. Jared wraps his arms around Jensen, silk and skin meeting. Indents of his fingertips are left behind until Jensen works himself in to the hilt, buried, enveloped to the root.

One, straining exhale is given from Jensen, his shoulders and thighs tense from restraint.

This. It’s been a while.

Working to control his breathing, Jared concentrates on pushing out, searching for and seeking the best angle. Jensen is patient. He doesn’t move until Jared hiccups and rolls his hips forward—ready.

The pace matches the near frantic rise and fall of their chests.

Hips snap together.

Jared feels his toes curl as Jensen dips in and out of him, fucking into him in long, languorous strokes. The pressure and force of his thrusts increase on a rhythm that drives Jared to shout out. It feels so good. All of this feels so good. Lost, he basks in the simple pleasure of Jensen’s cock pounding inside, pushing him open, stretching him out and filling him to the brim. The tempo changes. Jensen’s thighs clench with the force of these thrusts—short, sharp, deep. Sound from the bells joins the squelch of lube and the thrum of the mattress.

Hot, humid punches of breath hang between them.

Jensen lays his left hand flat over Jared’s chest, flicking a finger over his nipple. He steadies his weight against Jared, still with his right hand on Jared’s throat, and rotates his hips. Every swivel is exquisite. A heated bundle of nerves are artfully stroked. The fingers on Jared’s nipple move in time with each rotation of Jensen’s hips.

Holding Jensen inside, Jared grips onto the sheets, extending his legs, crying out.

 _Please_.

He surrenders in just the right way.

Jensen slips out for a moment. The mattress creaks as he settles beside Jared. Their mouths press together for a frantic, famished kiss, separated by Jensen pushing in again, with Jared on his side. What causes Jared to shout is Jensen simultaneously drawing his right knee up, pushing into him with one, long, demanding thrust, and increasing the pressure over his throat with his left hand.

Fused this way, Jensen maintains their mouths half an inch apart.

Jared quakes with the force of every push and plunge into him.

The third gift is brought out—ready ahead of time.

“Fuck me,” Jensen rumbles into Jared’s mouth. “Fuck me, _please_.”

Positioned at the tip of Jared’s cock, held by Jensen’s right hand, is a fleshlight. Jared squeezes his eyes shut. His legs buck and he melts as his cock slips into tight, slick, velvet. The bells ring. His mouth opens and he lets out a groan, the vibrations in his throat playing against Jensen’s fingers.

Covered, completely sheathed, Jared fucks into Jensen’s hand, his hips spurred by the rhythm Jensen orchestrates. The pressure around his cock is new and heady, coupled together with Jensen driving into him, pounding against nerves, faster and faster.

A button on the fleshlight is pressed.

Vibrations begin directly under the crown of Jared’s twitching, leaking cock.

“Twice,” is growled into Jared’s ear. “You’re going to come twice for me, sweetheart.”

An orgasm rips through Jared. He screams. It’s too much. He comes over Jensen’s thick, hard cock and he comes in Jensen’s firm, punishing grip. Muscles in his ass clench and his thighs clench. Too much.

This is too much.

“Again.”

The hand on his throat is moved to his hair, where it fists a handful and pulls Jared towards Jensen. Their lips crush together. Jensen fucks his mouth with his tongue in the same merciless beat as his hips. He rolls them over slightly, changing the angle, pounding against the bundle of nerves with a force that makes the entire bed shake.

He surrounds Jared.

Jared feels tears roll down his face.

Too much.

He comes again, filling up the fleshlight, bucking in Jensen’s hold, gasping when he feels Jensen’s cock twitch.

Trembling enough to match Jared, Jensen comes, corkscrewing into Jared, eyes shut, groaning into the hollow of Jared’s throat.

Thoroughly wrecked, Jared mewls in pain from the fleshlight still vibrating against his cock. Jensen shuts it off, but leaves it in place for the moment. They roll back onto their sides, both of them panting, ragged breaths replacing the ring of the bells or the slam of the headboard against the wall.

One kiss is pressed to Jared’s shoulder.

Shaky, Jared reaches back. Coming down is not easy. Tears are still present; he is overwhelmed, unable to focus. They’ll talk about this later, when Jared has the capacity for words. He wants to know how Jensen came to buy these souvenirs.

Great care is taken to slip the fleshlight off of Jared. Jensen replaces it with his hand, not daring to stroke. He breathes in deep and presses his mouth against Jared’s cheek. Gentle kisses dot over Jared’s tears.

Wrung out, Jensen all around him, Jared sinks into sleep.

They are different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew! please let me know how the smut was. <3
> 
> just a few more chapters here and we'll be wrapping this up. House is now a year old! thanks for sticking around. :D


	56. Chapter 56

_Young Man,_

_I cannot express to you the sentiment of receiving a handwritten letter. It seems like all anyone does nowadays—my beloved grandchildren included—is send e-mails and text messages. Between you and I, I think they’re all a little too lazy to hit a lick at a snake and write to their Nana. Perhaps someone can convince them of picking up a pen or a phone once in a blue moon._

_Jared, I have heard a great deal about you and the kind of young man you are._

_I also know that you worry._

_I will tell you now that that worry never stops._

_You will always wonder to yourself—are you good enough? Are you doing this correctly? Are you doing things as this person would? Everyone has these concerns, and I will tell you—from one Texan to another—long as I got a biscuit, you got half._

_My grandson is a whirlwind of a man, just like his grandfather. I know he has swept you up and put you in places so foreign, and oftentimes overwhelming for you. His grandfather did the same with me. And I know, that there are quite a few times when it may seem like you must shoulder these problems alone. But you are never alone, not as long as your mother—of whom I hear great things—and I are around._

_Perhaps Jensen has been so kind to tell you some small part of my ring’s background._

_Whenever I think of it, I can almost feel New York City._

_My William was an excellent man, charming almost to a fault. He could make me forget about everything. And I know my grandson takes after him._

_I only urge you, Jared, do not forget yourself._

_Love my grandson as you have, as I know you will, but never forget that you are half of this relationship. You deserve your own path. Marriage is not two people merging to become one; that never works. Take it from this old Southern woman with her share of floppy hats and a tomato garden that runs away with her every summer: marriage is two separate and distinct people, looking in the same direction._

_Both my grandsons tell me you are a hard worker. This is good. You’ll need that tenacity._

_The hard work doesn’t stop with ‘I do.’_

_I have been where you are, young man._

_And with my ring and my blessing, I hope you know I am on your side._

_Worry, if you must, but remind yourself that worry only goes so far. The act of living the life we are given is much more agreeable._

_We are a very close family, Jared. I welcome you and your mother to it. We have laid the foundation for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I hold the past. Young man, you hold the future._

_I hope very much to meet you soon. Thank you for your letter. I am fortunate to receive it._

_With every conviction, I know that both of you are good men in a storm._

_Thank you, for stepping into my grandson’s life just when he needed you._

_Blessings and love,_

_C. Ackles_

Jensen folds the letter and hands it back to Jared.

Jared tucks the letter into his suitcase.

They’ve slept for most of the day. Tomorrow, they leave for Smithville, with a detour in Austin. Jared has asked to drive instead of taking a plane. It will make the trip feel longer.

With a corner of the silk robe, Jared dabs at the tears near Jensen’s eyes.

Quietly, in the warmth and comfort of afternoon sunlight, Jared comments that the thread looks so real.

“It is real,” Jensen breathes out, kissing the palm of Jared’s hand and leaning into it. “Jay, I’d build you a house of gold.”

 

Whatever hard work remains ahead, Jared is prepared to tackle it alongside this man.

And everyone else who is on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a good chapter to start the end. <3


	57. Chapter 57

The next morning, Jared wakes up to a big ol’ pot of coffee strong enough to burn his stomach lining and a full Texas breakfast in bed.

Sitting up in bed, he laughs when Jensen sets down the tray for him.

“How’d you know?” Jared murmurs, munching on buttered toast, kissing Jensen in between bites.

“I just had this feeling.”

Jared can’t entirely walk straight. Luckily, he doesn’t have to try much, because the reason for it brings him breakfast made from scratch.

Jensen can cook.

The eggs are fluffy, the bacon crispy, and the hash browns are dusted with cheese and hot sauce. Slipping in beside Jared, Jensen starts to move his shoulders. There’s a song in his head. He scoots in close to Jared, so that their thighs are touching, and they eat off of one plate.

For the past twenty-four hours, they’ve been naked as the day they were born, doing nothing more than tumbling around in the sheets or on the couch in the living room. Having the guest house to themselves has turned out to be one of the best ideas ever. There is a slight dent in the wall from the headboard slamming against it. Jensen is proud of the dent.

Freckled shoulders continue to rock, bumping against Jared. Soon enough, Jared can hear the song.

It’s honky tonk.

Jensen waggles his eyebrows and smirks, his eyes half lidded and the smuggest look plastered on his face. His fingers walk over Jared’s left thigh, way, way above his knee. The fingers dance, to and fro, kicking up, rocking out, trailing further and further up…

And then Jared gets his nose bopped.

Through a forkful of hash browns, Jared laughs so hard, Jensen has to pat him on the back.

They’re leaving today.

 

“Tell me one role you really wanted but didn’t get.”

“Huh.”

“…so?”

“I’m thinkin’.”

“You’re so fucked out.”

“Yeeaaaaah. I am.”

“Guess I’ll just get out of bed now, seeing as we had breakfast and one good tumble…”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Jen, I love you, but we reek.”

“Hey, that’s a natural scent.”

“You’re so gross.”

“I cleaned you up this morning.”

“Yes, thank you _so_ much for cleaning your come off my face. You’re _such_ a gentleman.”

“Hmph. You’re welcome. ‘Bout time I get a thank you.”

“Answer my question or I’m leaving your ass in bed. Besides, you’re the one who wanted to leave early.”

“Captain America.”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah. Who wouldn’t wanna be Cap?”

“I didn’t know you tried out for that.”

“Yep. Fuckin’ Chris Evans.”

“You know he hates being Cap.”

“Exactly! So he should fork it over!”

“Wow. I can’t imagine you as Cap. Maybe… if you did this to your hair…”

“Don’t, Jay, c’mon. Cap is great, but Steve Rogers has such a doofy…”

“No, no, I can sorta see it now. Huh.”

“Are you done?”

“…did you dress up as Cap for your audition?”

“You mean, did I go in there in spandex holding a shield?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I just went in dressed like Steve.”

“I didn’t know you liked Cap.”

“I like superheroes.”

“Favorite?”

“Batman.”

“Everyone picks Batman.”

“Okay, well, what about you, Mr. Not Impressed? Who is yours?”

“…”

“God help you, Jared, if you say Superman... Oh, no, really? Really? Superman is a douchebag.”

“He is not! Besides, what makes Batman so great? At least Superman can _fly_. If you ever put the two of ‘em together and shit goes down, what’s Batman gonna do? Hop onto Superman’s back because Batman is a…”

“No! I can’t listen to this! Jay, I thought I knew you!”

“JENSEN. I LOVE SUPERMAN.”

“NO! I’M NOT LISTENING!”

“JENSEEEEEN. SUPERMAN IS MY BRO.”

“STOP!”

“Oh… my… god… I can’t stop laughing…”

“Pffft. At least _you’re_ amused.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. No… no wait… bahahaha!”

“Well, fuck you. I don’t even get to play a superhero in my next movie.”

“Aw, Jen, I’m sorry. Here, I’ll let you kiss me.”

“You’ll let me?”

“Yep.”

“Fine.”

“All better?”

“…maybe.”

“From what I read, it sounds like Marvel contracts are difficult as hell to get out of, even if the script is garbage.”

“Yeah, they wanted a minimum of five movies.”

“So… I think you’re better off, Jen.”

“I guess. I still wanted to save the day.”

“You saved my day just now, Jen.”

“Don’t be cute. No. Stop it. Jesus, fuck, who gave you the right to smile like that?”

“Say you love me.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“Good. I love you too. I hope you get to be Batman one day.”

“Thank you.”

“You never told me what your next project is.”

“Okay, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“I’m lying on top of you, Jen.”

“Brace yourself.”

“Okay.”

“You ever seen _Viva Las Vegas_?”

“…uh, with Elvis?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Okay?”

“And have you ever seen _Seven Brides for Seven Brothers_?”

“No?”

“I thought you were a film buff, Jay.”

“I am! But I don’t know what that one is.”

“It’s a musical.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yep.”

“You’re doing a musical?!”

“Not technic—ow! You just elbowed me…”

“I can’t believe this! You’ve _never_ done a musical! And you said it wasn’t a musical when I asked! What happened to the rom-com? No, wait, this is better though! Holy shit. Do you know what you’re gonna sing? Who else has been cast? Is this like a crossover kind of thing or… oh my god, are you gonna have Elvis hair?! JENSEN. WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! ANSWER ME. JEN!”

Jared chases Jensen into the bathroom.

In the shower, Jared sculpts Jensen’s hair into Elvis hair with shampoo.

 

There are a few more souvenirs for Jared.

Shirts, postcards, and magnets are presented to him as they begin to pack up to head out. Jensen apologizes for the crummy, touristy souvenirs, but he doesn’t get much time to wander whatever city he’s in. And in Jensen’s opinion, crummy, touristy crap he picked out is still better than stuff his assistant might’ve picked out. What he’s brought back are things he’s nabbed from airport gift shops along the way. The snow globe from Japan is the best, in Jared’s opinion, and he happily, carefully, packs every trinket away into his suitcase.

On the bed that they have now made and resolved to leave alone otherwise they will never leave, their suitcases lay side by side. After years of travel, Jensen has a very methodic way of packing. Jared tosses things in. He can’t help the smile when Jensen starts folding his things too. A kiss to Jensen’s cheek is given as a thank you.

The rest of their morning passes by in an effort to get packed.

Life here has Jensen looking refreshed and rested as hauls their suitcases out of the guest house and up the pathway to the main house. There are no more bags under his eyes, the color in his face has come back, and slowly but surely, weight is filling in on his frame again. A little time in Texas—with good ol’ Southern cooking—will do the trick.

In a few weeks, Jensen will have to go out to Vegas for one of the largest conventions he’s invited to every year. He’s asked Jared to accompany him; Jared has said yes. His television show spots were moved back, right around his trip to Vegas, which will make it convenient to stay in Los Angeles around that time. He can swing in some interviews, photo shoots, and other press obligations while he’s at it.

It is clear to Jared that being with Jensen necessitates having quality luggage.

For three weeks, Jared is determined not to see any luggage, no matter how fine, because he gets to have Jensen home—wherever that ends up being. They’re taking this one day at a time.

“Okay,” Jensen announces, hands on his hips as he stands in the front doorway. “I think I got everything. Wait til you see the rental car I got us.”

“Is it an electric van?”

“What? Pft, no.”

“But I wanted to drive across the country solving mysteries with you.” Jared pulls Jensen into the kitchen. The absence of a bed does not remove the distraction that is Jensen. Because he’s a jerk, Jensen is wearing a light green shirt, a selection that brings out his eyes. It’s one of his most beloved and worn shirts, hugging him in all the right places.

All Jared has to do is reach out, as he does now, and settle his forearms over Jensen’s shoulders, leaving only an inch of space between them. How wonderful is it, that in this moment, Jensen reaches back for him, placing his hands on the sides of Jared’s hips?

Reach out, reach back. Jared feels loved.

“Jen, can we talk about something?”

“I get to be Fred,” Jensen quips, tilting his head, moving in for a kiss. Jared allows one, chaste, sweet kiss before separating.

“Not _that_. But whatever, I wanna be Velma.”

“Not Daphne?”

“Daphne’s eye candy. I’m more than eye candy.”

“That you are,” is rumbled, dangerously close to Jared’s mouth. Those familiar hands begin to snake lower, kneading and massaging Jared’s lower back. The scent of Jensen’s cologne and that damn green shirt don’t help any. Ruh-roh.

“Jensen.”

“Hmm.”

Time to just go for it. “Your family’s planning on getting together here for Memorial Day. I’m pretty sure Josh is going to ask you about it before we leave.” Jensen’s hands squeeze, half in play and half in surprise. Jared breathes in sharp, grinding into those hands. Shit. He continues, flicking Jensen’s left ear. “Pay attention, Jen.”

“I’m payin’ attention, Jay.”

“To what I’m _sayin’_ , not just my ass.”

“I can do both.”

“I can’t.” It hurts Jared to pull away, but he does, for the sake of this conversation. He leans against the counter. Jensen pouts, but he looks at Jared directly. Good. “Jen, why don’t you visit here more often? Your brother is a great guy. You seem to like being around him.”

Leaning against his own portion of the counter, Jensen frowns and shrugs. “Jay, it’s not like I hate being here.”

Jared scoots over to stand next to Jensen and bumps their shoulders together, looking down at their shoes. He’s in his sneakers and Jensen is in boots; he nudges Jensen’s foot. “I think, Jen, if we spent more time around your family, the less awkward it’ll be. You’re not awkward around my momma because well, for one, she’s my momma. But also ‘cause you’ve spent time with us. Guess we haven’t done the same with your folks.”

There’s more drawl and twang in Jared’s speech than usual. He blames Jensen for that. Here, in a space that is familiar and known to Jensen, his accent is unhampered.

A deep breath is let out, this time by Jensen. Green eyes look over at him.

“My mother means well,” is murmured. “But she was always a stage mom.”

“I got that feeling.”

“Yeah.”

“I wanna come back here for Memorial Day, Jen. I think it’d be nice.”

A few things are said about Donna’s method of parenting when Jensen and Josh were younger. Josh showed no interest in modeling or acting, always preferring to play doctor or teacher. When he eventually decided to go into computers and tech, Donna let him go nerd out to his heart’s content. Jensen, on the other hand, actually liked modeling and acting—to a point. It was never that he wasn’t good enough; it’s that he was so good that he should do everything and anything available. There was a photo shoot when he was fourteen that he didn’t want any part of and yet his mother dragged him there, shoved him in front of the makeup artist, and screeched, “Would you please cover up this pimple on his nose?!” This continued until Jensen turned seventeen and Alan intervened.

In a way, she never quite forgave Jensen or Alan for hiring a manager in place of her.

And she did not take it well when Jensen moved out to Los Angeles.

Jensen sighs again.

He turns to face the window overlooking the pathway.

“My dad pretty much said the same thing you’re sayin’ now—spend some time here. But you know, it was much easier getting wrapped up in my schedule and saying, ‘Oh, next time, next time.’”

“I like your dad. He seems to like me again.”

“He’s likes you just fine, Jay, ever since y’all met. He wasn’t himself when we had lunch with them in Dallas earlier this year. My mom gets to him. I guess she gets to all of us.”

“Next time, we can visit for a day and stay at a hotel,” Jared offers. “I’ll give you blow jobs after.”

“Well,” Jensen laughs and bumps into Jared, “how can I refuse somethin’ like that? C’mere.”

Leaning in for a kiss is easy as pie. There’s heat under the surface of their kiss; it’s a spark and a snap that Jared knows will never fade. He smiles when Jensen taps his belt buckle.

“Thank you.” Jensen nudges their noses together. “For givin’ me a kick in the ass when I need one.”

“Many of the things I do involve your ass in some capacity.”

“Mm… so how about…”

“Nope. We have to leave. You said you wanted to be on the road by eleven.”

“I say lots of things. C’mon. Just a quick…”

“…walk around the place to make sure we didn’t forget anything? What a great idea, Jensen. Let’s do that. Quit grabbin’ at my ass, too. That’s getting you nowhere good.”

Before Jared can get too far, Jensen grabs his hand and pulls him back. Nose to nose, Jensen looks right at him. “People might say,” Jensen murmurs, “that you’re the lucky one. They’re wrong, sweetheart. I’m the lucky one.”

A kiss is pressed to Jared’s nose before Jensen scoots them both back to their bedroom.

They move the bed a little to the left, covering up the slight dent in the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these two... sigh. XD
> 
> mixing in some irl stuff with Captain America. would've been nice, yes, but i think we're all better off for how things worked out in the end. 
> 
> uhm, i'm also super excited to work in 7 Brides for 7 Brothers!
> 
> feedback is appreciated, as always! brightens my day to hear from y'all. <3


	58. Chapter 58

Today, the weather in Dallas is clear and sunny—not a cloud in the sky. The temperature should hit the mid-fifties later on, which means that yet another mild, Texan spring is not far away.

A whole new season is about to start.

Jared can’t wait.

 

At noon, the Ackles gather on the veranda in the main house to say goodbye. Josh will leave right after them, back to his own home, wife, and children. Jared thanks him again for making himself available and welcoming throughout this whole time; in exchange, Josh hugs him tight in thanks for the yes to Memorial Day. Phone numbers are swapped on the veranda. On top of that, Jared is given Josh’s address in Dallas, with an open invitation to visit any time, with or without Jensen.

Down the line, both brothers come together for a hug. But there’s something a little different about this goodbye that Jared can’t help but notice. It makes him feel good about the advice he gave to Jensen earlier.

Memorial Day sure is gonna be something.

As Jared steps away to give the guys space, he hears a snippet.

“Thanks, Josh.”

“Anytime. It’s good to have you back, little brother.”

Walking over to Jensen’s parents, Jared can’t suppress his smile.

 

This goodbye is a little simpler.

He extends a hand out to Donna. She takes it and murmurs a small, “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, ma’am,” Jared says, standing back, neither leaning in for a hug or expecting one. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”

Donna is still upset. She refuses to look at Jared or anyone at all, which is fine. Jared won’t force her to like him, acknowledge him, or give two fucks about him. If that’s the kind of relationship she wants, she can have it. What matters the most to Jared is putting his energy and time towards the people who do give a damn. And even after the grab bag that has been the past few days, he’s leaving knowing that he has numerous people on his side.

Her problem with him is exactly that: her problem.

She’s going to see him for a whole weekend in May and a long time after.

Jared hopes she’s ready for that.

Without another word, Donna slips back inside the house, closing the door behind her. When Jared extends his hand out to Alan, Alan shakes his head and ignores the hand.

He pulls Jared in for a hug and gives him a pat on the back.

Over a little small talk about football and the drive to Austin, Alan gives Jared his cell phone and office numbers. If there’s anything he needs to talk about—business or personal—he can call. Alan hints at driving down to Smithville to have lunch with Sherri. Jared relates that it wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Another apology for these past few days is then attempted, but Jared politely mentions that he’d like them all to move on from this. More apologies aren’t necessary.

“But I’ll take you up on the offer to have a barbeque in April,” Jared adds.

“So it’s a barbeque he wants,” Alan laughs and shakes his head. “All right, barbeque it is. We’ll set up the weekend later. You give me a call sometime before then, son.”

Jared doesn’t know Alan as well as he’d like to, but he has a feeling this will change without much effort, time, or worry. Alan squeezes Jensen tight, reminds him that he’s not too city to call his old man up once in a while and fill him in, and hopes to see them soon to celebrate Jensen’s birthday.  

After one more round of hugs and suggestions on which routes to take heading south, Jensen takes the last bag out to the car. Jared lingers just a little.

Leaving the ranch means going out back into the Real World.

There are no baby goats out there, no Cookies, and there won’t always been consecutive nights of falling asleep in a comfortable bed, wrapped warm and secure in Jensen’s arms.

Out there are people who mean to hurt him or those close to him. Out there are people to remind him that his lifestyle is unacceptable in their eyes, and even more people to question his every action, his position in life, and his motives. Out there are life-changing decisions to make, more serious discussions, and long-term commitments.

He’s had a taste of all of this so far—from Miami to Dallas to Vancouver to Smithville to right here, walking towards Jensen, who leans against their rental car, looking at Jared like he’s hallowed ground.

And so far, Jared likes to think that he’s done all right.

There are overwhelming, worrisome issues and problems out there.

Jared walks towards the Real World anyway. 

He waves goodbye to the Ackles and Dallas.

 

“WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!”

“Jensen! Sit down!”

“Sit down? Hell no! C’mon, you have to try this!”

“I’m driving!”

“I can take the wheel for a second, Jay, c’mon!”

“Do you remember how driving works?!”

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

If the paparazzi were here, they would have a gallery worth of pictures of Jensen Ackles standing up in the passenger’s seat of a bright red convertible.

Zipping down the highway en route from Dallas to Austin, Jensen throws his hands up, tosses his head back, and laughs with his entire body. He is completely unafraid of falling, crashing, or being propelled out of the car. All he cares about is stretching his arms out and breathing in.

This is the start of their three hour road trip—fifty miles in.

Jensen turns thirty-three in three days.

At the moment, Jensen looks nothing like a man in his early thirties. He’s wearing a threadbare t-shirt, a baseball cap, and blue jeans that are so worn in, they’re only a few shade away from being white. When he eventually sits down, he curls up next to Jared, an arm around Jared’s shoulders and kisses pressed to his cheek. It’s a miracle that a state trooper doesn’t pull them over.

On 35E, just outside of Waco, Jared is driving and his fiancé is bouncing in the passenger’s seat like a puppy.

The rental car was delivered to the ranch early this morning. A cherry red, 2015 BMW 4-Series convertible sat in the driveway, sleek and beautiful, waiting just for them. Jared dropped his suitcase when he first saw it. And now, he’s _driving_ it, which is totally against the rental agreement—he read it over, thank you—but also incredibly exciting. He’s never driven a car this _fast_. While Jensen’s hooting and hollering certainly concern him, he also can’t contain the giddiness of driving an actual BMW down 35E at 80mph.

At the Waco city limits, Jensen stands up again, this time a little more pensive, and after two minutes, he plops his butt beside Jared, a shocked look on his face.

“What?” Jared asks, eyes wide as he glances over. “What happened? Did you swallow a bug?”

“…n-no.”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“I did not!”

“Euw! Jensen! I told you to quit—what are you doing? Get away from me! Ugh, don’t kiss me! I will turn this car around, Jensen, I swear to god I will!”

They pass Lorena, Bruceville, Eddy, Troy, and Temple.

Flying past Round Rock, Jared puts on Tammy. He sings “Stand by Your Man” at pitches that would offend dogs.

Jensen counters by taking his shirt off, stretching out in his seat, and basking in the sun. Fifty degrees has come and gone; the car reports a cool sixty. And Jensen doesn’t care if Jared swerves at the sight of his bare, firm chest. Nope. He doesn’t even care if they never reach Austin—if they kept driving all the way through to Mexico. Jensen doesn’t care about any of that. All he cares about is cranking up Bob Seger and playing his invisible guitar.

The interstate is theirs.

At Georgetown, Jensen plasters himself against Jared and doesn’t stop kissing his cheek or bumping his nose against Jared’s earlobe. The bug incident is forgotten only after Jensen chews a piece of gum. Mollified, Jared drives with his right hand on Jensen’s thigh the entire time.

Ten miles out of Georgetown and Jensen convinces Jared to pull over behind a billboard state cops use as speed traps. The spot is unoccupied and the car glides over. Jensen meets Jared’s questions with a rough kiss.

Up goes the top to the convertible.

Two minutes later, Jensen is blowing him.

Pink, lush lips work Jared so well, Jared’s hips lift off the seat a fraction, shouting out as he grips onto the wheel and Jensen’s hair. His cock hits the wet, quivering back of Jensen’s throat. Hot, firm pressure increases by the second as Jensen hollows his cheeks, blowing Jared like there’s a deadline. An ache in his lower stomach blooms as his legs are pushed up and his jeans pushed down. Possessive hands reach underneath Jared and grope his ass, pulling him in, bringing him into Jensen’s mouth as deep as he’ll go. Jared’s left leg stretches out onto the dashboard, while his right leg is half-hooked over the passenger’s seat and Jensen’s shoulders.

One, two, three—Jensen’s throat flutters and works all over and around his cock.

It’s rough, fast, and messy.

Jared squeezes his eyes shut and shouts out, his thighs trembling, spit running down to the base of his cock. He twists and bucks and fucks into the squelch of Jensen’s mouth.

Trucks and cars aren’t as loud to him as his moan the second Jensen starts humming.

Rumbling vibrations all over his cock, Jared comes, gasping, his eyes rolling back and his toes curling inside his sneakers. He twitches and throbs, coming in long ropes down a throat that swallows all of it. That pink, luscious mouth sucks every last drop from him, leaving his cock glistening and flushed.

Jensen pops off, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and sits up, damned proud of himself.

He takes over driving after that.

 

They stop for sirloin tacos just outside of Round Rock.

Tacos are a dollar and a quarter; Jared buys. With their sunglasses and baseball caps on, they eat on a picnic table, sitting on the table instead of the benches. They eat and eat and eat until Jensen rubs his middle and taps out. Jared happily finishes what’s left and texts two people of interest while Jensen collects their trays and cleans up.

Under the afternoon sun, Jared and Jensen share a kiss that tastes like tacos, Coke, and lime.

No one hoots, hollers, or notices them for more than what they are.

This is nice.

He could spend a long time doing this—driving and stopping for food, blow jobs on the side of the road, and selfies in parking lots with the top down.

Pushing off the picnic table, Jared gets up to buy ice-cold glass bottle Cokes for the rest of their trip; Jensen follows, his right hand in Jared’s left back pocket.

On the last stretch, Jensen drives and Jared dozes against his shoulder—full, happy, and warm.

One hundred and ninety six miles later, four hours after leaving Dallas, the city of Austin welcomes them.

No sooner than five seconds after Jensen parks in front of the Center, a voice shouts out.

“YO JAY-BIRD!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! thank you so much for waiting! updates have been scarce on anything lately due to two big bangs (one of which is posted, go read if you haven't!) and bunch of things all at once happening. i'm super grateful y'all are still here reading. <3
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed the bit of smut in this chapter
> 
> wrapping this up so we can get started on the third installment. :D


	59. Chapter 59

The Center is a living, breathing part of the Austin community.

A variety of events are scheduled throughout the week—some weekly, others monthly. The planning and programming staff likes to have at least three events every day, whether it’s youth groups or workshops. However, every last Sunday of the month is special. Group meetings and any other events that day are scheduled for the morning, saving one of the Center’s most critical events for all the entire afternoon.

Jared and Jensen arrive just in time for it.

“Okay, Jay-bird, I needchu to hand out pizza. Everyone gets two slices—hey! Lucia! Look who’s here!—for the first round, okay? When you get low, let me know. Don’t say a fucking word to Jaime because he’s been a little bitch about the budget and you know who has time for his stingy ass? Not me.”

Anza is dressed in what Jared knows is her Sunday afternoon best: a red and white polka dot dress and red pumps. Although she’s been at the Center for four hours now, and will be until after clean up, not a hair is out of place as it bounces on her shoulders. She leads them through the line of ten fold-out tables on the Center’s sidewalk, stopping in front of the food and toiletries stations. Volunteers dressed in red are all over, running around getting everything set up. Questions are shouted and either Anza or Lucia answers back in between what they’re already doing.

Sharp brown eyes peer at Jensen.

“Hey,” she says, hands on her hips, “it’s nice to meetchu.”

“You as well,” Jensen replies, holding his right hand out. “I’m glad to meet Jay’s friends.”

For a moment, Anza doesn’t move or speak. She looks Jensen up and down, then analyzes his body language against Jared’s. Because they’re kinda-sorta joined at the hip right now, Jensen has his left hand over the small of Jared’s back, settled there like always. Jared has his right hand over Jensen’s shoulders, tapping Morse code while they wait to be shown what to do.

Whatever Anza sees between them in these few seconds of tranquility, she likes.

Interrogations are not necessary. Anza trusts Jared. And she trusts her ability to kick Jensen’s ass if Jensen breaks his heart. The message is there, unspoken, but clear. A glance over at Jared assures him that she’ll get her details about Jensen later, in private. She shakes Jensen’s hand and begins to lay out the plans for the next two hours.

In half an hour, one to two hundred homeless youth from all over Austin will arrive for the Center’s Monthly Drop-In. There are tables set up for clothes, shoes, and toiletries. Other tables have pamphlets on resources throughout the city or in the Center itself.

One of these ten tables is headed by Yoli, an older lady who has been doing HIV testing for twenty-five years. She takes questions, hands out packs of condoms, dental dams, and lube. If anyone wants a free test, they can follow her to the testing truck parked on the street. Another table has books and comics donated by various Austin stores, one table is for toiletry packs, and there are two tables with food. Situated between the toiletries table and the second food table, Jared and Anza will be on pizza duty; Greg and Melvin are in charge of boxed lunches.

Jensen will be at the toiletries table sorting out and packaging up items donors have sent.

“Look, every baggie gets one of each,” Anza explains, picking one up and then looking around. “Fuck, where the hell… Memo! Hey! Can you get me that big ass box of paper towels from the second floor? Don’t look at Jay-bird! Look at me, I’m tellin’ you to do shit! Go!” Turning back to Jensen, Anza continues. “They get a hand towel, a pack of wipes, toothbrush, paper towels when Memo gets his ass over here wit’ them, a dental kit, first aid kit, and a pack of pads. Put pads in every bag, okay? Even for the guys.”

“Why?” Jensen asks. He picks up a plastic bag and starts to sort through boxes of supplies.

Anza lifts up a box of hand towels. “Two reasons: some guys pass them onto their girlfriends or ladies they meet on the street who don’t know about this yet. And some guys have periods. That’s it.”

Jensen thinks about this for a second.

Grabbing another plastic bag, he gets to work.

“Put the pads at the bottom,” Anza reminds him, her tone a little softer. Once she and Jensen make one bag together, she tends to other business. From their tables, she shouts out to Jaime about the pizza. In response, on the opposite side of the set-up, Jaime hollers back that it should be here already and he’s busy. “Motherfucking… useless…” she grumbles and sets down the finished toiletry bag. “Lucia?! Where’s my purse?!” Red pumps storm away.

While Anza and Jensen worked, Jared set up a stack of paper plates and napkins. He finishes a small tower and scoots over to Jensen’s table, two steps away.

“Are you okay?” He bumps their shoulders together. There’s a minute where he’s nervous about volunteering them without previous discussion. Maybe this isn’t Jensen’s idea of a good time in Austin.

“Yeah, Jay, ‘m fine.”

“…you sure?”

“Can I ask somethin’?”

“Shoot.”

They talk and work; Jared helps with a few bags. With every bag, Jensen’s packing gets a little neater. “Two hundred kids come here?”

“Just about.”

“Every month?”

“Yeah. In the summer there’s an ice cream table. If the weather sucks for any reason, we used the dock in the back. I’m not sure they do that now, it’s been a while since I’ve helped out.”

“Okay.” A frown tugs at the corners of Jensen’s mouth. Jared is tempted to kiss that frown away, but he hesitates, reading Jensen’s tense shoulders and the reserved look in his eyes. Something tells him it might be best to let Jensen work through what’s bothering him.

The afternoon is clear. After spending three hours in a car, Jared is glad to be up and moving around. He promised Anza two hours of their help. At the tail end of their shift, Jim has cleared his schedule to meet with them; until then, he has cases to work on and youth to meet with. Memo drops by with the paper towels. He hugs Jared and shyly shakes Jensen’s hand. While Jensen opens the box, Memo updates Jared on the rest of their group—Candy and Charlie are out this weekend, but did Jared hear about Sanzo? In the middle of Memo’s reply—something involving Houston, drinking, and gambling—Anza appears, carrying five boxes of pizza.

Jensen swings over and asks her if there’s more.

“Yeah, there’s more,” she laughs and directs him to the truck. As soon as Jensen is out of earshot, she leans close to Jared. “I like a man that don’t ask me if he can carry shit for me.”

Murmuring, Memo chimes in. “You complained yesterday when I didn’t carry that one box from the third floor.”

“That was different, ‘dejo. An’ why you arguin’? Go see if Jay-bird’s man needs help!”

Two minivans with youth from one of the larger city shelters pulls up to the start of the tables, where Jaime and four other volunteers are waiting. Down the block, Jared can see small groups of people walking over, some of them timid, others calling out to each other down the street. The line starts with Jaime, so he can check everyone in and have them fill out surveys before they get supplies and food. This will help keep track of who is coming, who they haven’t seen, and how to do more outreach.

Volunteers who were prepping things inside the Center file out and head over to their tables. Viola waves to Jared. June stops by and hugs him. Yoli presses two kisses to each of his cheeks and squeezes him tight. LaToya and Tom wave and blow kisses. Patrice sends greetings to Sherri, with a reminder for her to call. Mickey smacks Jared’s ass; Anza kicks Mickey in the shins with her heel and sends him on his way.

Aided by Memo, Jensen returns with pizza. As Jared finishes up a small conversation with Angel, which ends in a hug, Jensen has the pizza table set up and ready to go.

Sweating from the work, and a little shy in front of Memo and a few other folks who pass through to say hi to Jared, Jensen hangs back and opens up one of the four bottles of water Anza gave them at the start. It’s so odd to see Jensen this way. Odd and endearing. Jensen isn’t uncomfortable, he’s just overwhelmed. This is exactly how Jared felt on that red carpet in Miami. And he remembers every kindness Jensen gave to him then.

Jared begins with Crystal, one of the interns on the third floor. “This is Jensen,” Jared chirps, tugging Jensen forward by the hem of his shirt. “My fiancé.”

Crystal comments on how nice it is to have more help. Travis can’t help but ask Jensen what Hollywood is like. Cassie and Kevin inquire after Jensen’s television appearances. Fernando poses the question: “Did you get a lot of chicks when you were single?” Anza smacks him upside the head, not missing a beat in her conversation with Memo. In this time, Jared, Jensen, Anza, and Memo have twenty bags ready to go.

Everyone who stops by to say hi to Jared congratulates him and Jensen.

This is real.

Several times over, Jared looks at his ring. As Jaime collects surveys and youth start to walk down each table, Jared turns to Jensen. It’s time to get to the real work.

Jensen hands over his open water bottle.

Jared takes a drink and caps it, putting it under the table for now.

He leans into Jensen and presses a small, light kiss to his lips. Baseball caps and sunglasses come on a second later, but for different reasons this time—they’re working under the sun.

Seconds before kids stop by the toiletries table, Jared reaches over and grabs Jensen’s ass.

“Jay-bird!” Anza snaps beside him. She smiles and looks over at Jensen, then nudges Jared’s shoulder. “Do another, it’s good luck.”

Lord knows Jared can’t resist following through with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for hanging in there with these guys! <3 i'm done with big bangs for now, so expect updates. let me know how you like this chapter!


	60. Chapter 60

The Center has ten beds for homeless LGBTQ youth.

There is always a wait list, with new names added to it every week. Five of those beds are reserved for individuals who need long-term help—most often they require assistance for substance abuse. Daily schedules are in place for each young person occupying those beds. The program works to set youth up in temporary employment, which hopefully turns into a permanent position. Jim and others at the Center take on these cases. Seminars are run specifically for the shelter—how to go through a job interview, how to build a resume, how to survive on their own with bills and rent and due dates.

Ten beds, a handful of monthly workshops, and the Drop-In is the Center’s contribution for the homeless LGBTQ population under the age of 25 in Austin.

On any given night in the city of Austin—just the city, not counting its suburbs—there are three thousand people experiencing homelessness; half of them are sixteen to twenty-five years old.

Not every story is the same.

Parental intolerance accounts for a large number of why youth find themselves on the streets or couch surfing or staying at cheap motels when they can afford it. Homelessness isn’t always sleeping on park benches or in alleyways. Some youth are able to crash on couches at their friends’ places, shifting locations, moving on when their welcome ends. For three dollars, the Y in the center of downtown Austin will let youth use the showers in locker rooms to wash up. When it’s warmer outside it’s easier to find a place to sleep. There are good days and bad days for these youth, just like anyone else.

Some of them aged out of the foster care system and found themselves without support or guidance in the real world. A few lost their jobs because of their identities and haven’t been able to secure any since. Another segment continue to experience substance abuse, or lack adequate access to mental health care.

And some decided to leave on their own.

It was their home before or the street and they chose what was best for them.

 

On pizza fifteen out of twenty, an anonymous donor provides a credit card to purchase ten more. Once everyone in attendance has received a portion of pizza, seconds from the anonymous donor are cracked into. Take away plates are made, covered in foil, and passed out to grateful hands.

With twenty kids left in line, Jensen and Memo run out of toiletries packs. This has been one of the most well-attended Drop-Ins in a few months. Unfortunately, supplies only go so far. There isn’t time to go out and ask for more from vendors who donated, or to buy more. They need to have the Drop-In closed up by dusk.

Anza assures Jensen that this happens from time to time. It sucks, and it sucks to see the kids leave to who knows where. It sucks never knowing if the kids will be back.

“I hope not,” Anza mentions, pulling her hair into a bun. Despite working harder than all the volunteers put together, her hair remains perfect and her makeup intact. Her voice lowers. “Like, in the best sense. I hope they don’t come back because they don’t need a place like this.” Sighing, she shrugs. Toiletries are not the worst thing they can run out of. Memo walks by and Anza smiles, nudging Jensen. “That would be nice, right? Not to need a line to see Memo’s ‘dejo face.”

All afternoon, there were a handful of youth on the younger side that Anza asked to speak with in private, away from the lines. After some conversation throughout the afternoon, Anza figured out who needed what most urgently. This is information the paper surveys Jaime passes out don’t get. She writes a list on a napkin while Jared finishes passing out the last of the pizza. Tomorrow morning, she’ll get on the phone with a rehab facility and see if they have space, then a shelter for women experiencing partner abuse, and then a psychiatrist in the area who works with LGBTQ folks and operates on a sliding scale. Anza cannot talk to everyone, however, networks are created, resources are shared, and one kid who spoke not one word all afternoon thanks Jared for the XBOX he donated.

The Drop-In must come to an end. It always does.

One by one, tables break down and pizza boxes are taken to the recycling bins in the dock.

Jared challenges Jensen to see how many they can each carry. The winner is Jared, but only because Jensen claims to have let him won.

A few kids come over to Jensen as he starts boxing up tablecloths and napkins.

His eyes go soft.

While the lines were going, Jensen ended up taking off his sunglasses. He made eye contact with everyone, shook hands with a few, and thanked people for coming out today.

The group of kids asks for autographs and pictures.

He declines the pictures, but he grabs some napkins, a Sharpie, and asks for everyone’s name. The second a line begins to form, Anza steps in. She reminds everyone that this is not a meet and greet; Jensen is here as a volunteer, not as an attraction. Amidst the moans and groans of those who did not get an autograph, Anza snaps out, “Did any of youse say thank you?! I didn’t hear no thank yous! The man jus’ signed shit for you—you say thank you!”

A second later, Anza slaps Jensen on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, smoothing out her dress. “That was real nice of you.”

“I just signed some stuff and bought…”

Anza shakes her head. “ _No_. Not that. I already thankedchu for the pizza. I meant helping out. Chuy and Luke bailed at the last minute, I don’t know if Jay-bird told you, so we were down. I didn’t think you’d stay the whole time… or after.”

From ten feet away, breaking down pizza boxes, Jared listens to the exchange between his best friend and his fiancé.

“It was… good. Real good.”

“You don’t do this often, huh?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Well don’t feel _bad_ ,” she huffs. “Feel good. You see you got a lot of privilege--own up to that shit. So you volunteered once. That means you can do it again, ‘dejo. You bring my boy back more often, yeah? Stop by, see us, and help out.”

“Better late than never, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you excuse me for a second, please?” Jensen walks towards Jared. He places a hand on Jared’s shoulder and mumbles something about going to the car for a second. Confused and concerned at the somber turn, Jared offers to follow. “No, it’s okay,” Jensen insists, breathing out. “I just… gotta make two phone calls.”

Jensen leans against the rental car as he speaks into his new phone.

The sun starts to set on Austin.

Anza corrals the volunteers inside for coffee and cookies in the gym. Nearly at the same time, Jim texts Jared that he’s free now, so he and Jensen can head up to his office.

Before all the volunteers disperse, Yoli offers them all a free HIV test.

Jared lines up. He may as well, and Yoli doesn’t exactly take no for an answer. She’s excited to test with oral swabs. In the two minutes the test takes to do, she asks him about his mother, his life, and that tall drink of water that seems good enough to have Jared’s attention. He has no idea where to start in with his answer.

With a laugh, Yoli escorts Jared out of the truck. She’ll bring his results up to Jim’s office in twenty minutes. “In the words of Alison Krauss,” she declares, opening the door, “you say it best when you say nothing at all.”

“Thank you,” Jared sighs in relief. “Thank you very much.”

“Say hi to your momma for me. Let’s see who is next. Oh. Now this is good.”

Next in line is Jensen Ackles.

“It’s not gonna hurt, right?” he asks, taking off his cap. “Right, Jay?”

Austin is getting dark, but right now Jared couldn’t tell the difference between dusk and dawn.

“Not at all, Jen.”

 

Together, they head up to Jim’s office.

Anza promises to meet up with them before they leave. She has paperwork to do before the end of the night. She drags Memo off with her, who waves goodbye to both Jared and Jensen. Whatever Anza needs to do, he’ll be helping.

In the elevator, Jared and Jensen are alone for the first time all afternoon.

Jared leans in for a kiss. Unfortunately, Jensen does too, at the exact same time. They bump foreheads with a _thunk._ Bright red, Jared wraps his arms around Jensen and hides from embarrassment. Jensen smells like pizza, sweat, and the open highway. There’s still another hour drive from Austin to Smithville.

As the doors open and they walk out, Jared suggests that maybe, maybe they could stay in a hotel tonight and head over to Smithville early tomorrow morning. He can pull money from his savings just for this occasion if Jensen is up to it. It’s been a long day for both of them.

Everyone on the third floor has gone home for the day—everyone except for Jim, whose office is at the end of the hall. The hallway is empty. Jensen stops them halfway down. He puts his hands on Jared’s shoulders. Green eyes search Jared’s.

“Jay.”

“Jen? What’s wrong?”

Jensen looks away and bites his bottom lip. “Can I ask you for something?”

“Anything,” Jared replies, with all the sincerity he can place into just one word. He’s ready to do or give anything at all for Jensen. And he knows it goes both ways.

Taking a deep breath, Jensen moves his hands to grasp Jared’s, smoothing his fingers over Jared’s knuckles and giving a squeeze. In the quiet around them, he murmurs, “Can I have another hug? Please?”

“Jesus.” Jared exhales. “Of course you can, Jen. Come here.”

They aren’t tumbling around on the lawn in Dallas, but the way Jensen holds onto Jared is just the same as it was then. Jared puts everything he has into this embrace and kisses Jensen’s cheek.

“Tell me,” Jensen whispers, “that they’re going to be okay.”

“I can’t, Jen.”

“…”

“…but I can tell you that they’re going to try their best. And if they come here, they’re going to get the best.”

Nodding, Jensen sniffs. This time it’s his turn to hide from Jared. “Is this… Jay, is this one of those things I can’t just write a check to and make it all better for everyone?”

Though it hurts to say it, Jared replies, “This is one of those things, Jen, that you can’t throw money at to make it all better.” He presses a kiss to Jensen’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m just… so… and… then…”

“I know.”

“How? And why? And every month…”

“Jen.”

“Huh?”

“Breathe.” Jared presses his right hand to Jensen’s chest. “In.”His hand rises. “Good. Out.” His hand falls. “In again, out again.”

“I called my mom,” Jensen blurts out, still locked into Jared. “And… I apologized. I said I was sorry for avoiding her and never calling or visiting when I should have. And then…” He inhales, a bit shaky. “I-I called your mom and said thank you.”

“For what?”

Jensen pulls away, looking as exhausted as he did arriving in Dallas from New York from Paris.

“For being there for you.”

“Oh. Wow. What’d she say?”

A small smile forms. Jensen looks up to the ceiling and takes another deep breath. He ruffles Jared’s hair and pats him on the ass—twice, for payback.

“She said to quit making her cry and her butt is for sitting, not for kissing.”

“Sounds like my mom.” Jared sighs and takes Jensen’s hand again, leading him down the hall. “C’mon. The hotel’s on me tonight, Mr. Anonymous Donor. Thank you, by the way. I know… that this isn’t everyone’s thing but you did so great.”

Just outside Jim’s closed door, Jensen swings them together for a deeper kiss. The kiss reminds him that tonight, Jensen is all his, and for many nights after. They will have a warm shower, a comfortable bed, and Orion will be out, bright and true. For all these things, Jared is grateful. He owes his momma a thank you, too.

Separated, Jensen bumps their noses together, this time on purpose and much gentler.

“What’d you say before? What was it…?”

“Dunno,” Jared says with a grin. “What’d I say?”

With a smooch to Jared’s nose, Jensen murmurs, “Oh, yeah. Anything for you, sweetheart.”

The man in front of him, his friends and family, the opportunities in life he’s been given, priceless stability given to him by his mother, the hotel they’ll check into in after Jensen gets the grand tour of the Center, and everything the future holds for him and his husband-to-be no matter how far away it takes Jensen.

Those are some of the major things Jared is deeply appreciative of.

And he knows that his list matches Jensen’s.

If they hadn’t met at the photo-op booth, their lives wouldn’t necessarily be better or worse. They would just be different. For all the millions of outcomes or possibilities, Jared remains grateful.

 

It’s gratitude that eases both of their worries.

Jared knocks on Jim’s door.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh! we're at the end, just one more chapter (i think) and an epilogue. ;w; 
> 
> thank you for your patience while i update. i hope you enjoyed this chapter and many others. i tried to show as much character development as i could here. i also hope that i captured the sensitivity of these moments/this situation. this is a topic that is very personal for me. please let me know what you think. <3
> 
> okay, time to crash.


	61. Chapter 61

After a hearty handshake, Jim and Jensen hit it off.

They quickly bond over model helicopters and talk about Dallas. Jim sneaks in a story or two about Jared, but he graciously keeps the embarrassment to a minimum. There are a few mentions of the Cowboys, only because it’s some kind of law that when two Texans meet, they have to talk football. Chatting back and forth, catching Jim up, Jared mentions that they were looking to stay in Austin for the night.

Within ten minutes, Jared is given a reservation number and a hug from his mentor.

Although Jared doesn’t have the money or resources Jensen possesses, he has connections, some of which have secured them a suite at the Hilton in downtown Austin. The Center has hosted its gala there every year for a decade.

“How’d you like our place here?” Jim asks Jensen, handing him a bottle of water. “I hope Anza didn’t work y’all too hard. Thank you, by the way, for donating more pizza.”

Smiling, easy and relaxed, Jensen shakes his head. “Not at all, and it was my pleasure.” He takes a sip of water and hands the bottle to Jared for a sip. “I’ve been through Austin a few times before, but never here. I like it here. I wanna do something for y’all. But I think…” Jensen pats Jared’s knee. “My fiance has something in mind.”

All of the attention in the room turns to Jared, who can feel himself blush.

Jensen gives his knee a squeeze.

Jared takes a deep breath and starts explaining his idea.

He walks both men through it, fleshing it out, adding more than he had started out with. The Center needs funds to renovate and expand; ten beds are not enough. With more funding, more than the basics can be done. They could begin set up for a hormone program based on informed consent; they could do in-house job training, start a small walk-in clinic, and potentially invest in a food truck operated by the youth staying in the Center.

None of these issues are new to Jim, the Center, or the LGBTQ community. Jared knows that there are plans in place and other matters of practicality and procedure to respect.

But once he starts, he can’t stop. The theoretical food truck could provide job experience and a sense of purpose. It would give youth more reason to visit the Center—they could earn some money, engage in something tangible, and walk away with something to put on a resume.

All of that—services, programs, and more staff—requires long-term, substantial financial contributions.

Jared bets they could raise twenty-five grand with his idea.

But only if Jensen is in.

Jensen’s answer?

It makes Jared very happy.

 

Using a combination of social media, crowd funding, and networking, their goal is to raise twenty-five grand in two weeks. This is what Jared knows well: hashtags and fandom.

“There was a web series pitched to fandom like… a year or two back,” Jared explains in Jim’s office. “It started low budget—filmed on their iPhones and stuff. You know what happened when my friend reblogged their link? Dana has fifteen hundred devoted followers. That one post on Tumblr was reblogged ten thousand times.”

Continuing, he adds, “In twenty-four hours the developers reached their first mark. They were able to buy a better camera and offer more incentives, like having dinner with them.”

“Did you?” Jim asks, leaning forward in his chair.

“No way.” Jared paces around the room. “That was like… only if you donated two grand. I pitched in ten dollars. I got my name run on the credits though. The point is—even if people only donate five or ten bucks, in large numbers, it can get us to twenty-five. That campaign closed at one hundred and fifty grand in two weeks. The power of nerds, gentlemen.”

Whatever Jared and Jensen need from Jim or the Center itself is theirs to use.

“I’m setting up an appointment with you and Bob for this Thursday,” Jim decides. “Bob’s the President of the Board. He wouldn’t have any control or say about your project, but having his support, which you definitely will, can only help.” A second later, Jim asks, “Are y’all gonna be around Thursday? Or does Hollywood have other plans for you two?”

Thursday is fine.

By Tuesday, Jensen’s birthday, Jared hopes to have the basic platform of what they’re doing in production. Before they leave for Smithville tomorrow, Jensen has a list of people to contact and his share of favors to call in. This will get the ball rolling and provide Jared with something tangible to present to Bob. This all happens so fast, Jared can hardly believe any of it.

Sherri has promised to have lunch ready for them tomorrow by noon.

That gives them time to sleep in before check-out at eleven.

Their meeting comes to a close. Jim has written down two pages of notes and given Jared one page of contacts in Austin worth reaching out to. Jared will stop by his office before the big meeting on Thursday. Little by little, Jared’s idea becomes something more. He isn’t sad to leave the Center this time.

There is no such thing as goodbye in Texas.

Especially not from Anza, who gives Jared and Jensen each a rib-crushing hug in the lobby.

There is only, “See’chu ‘dejos later!”

 

If Jared is feeling a little silly right now as start their drive over to the hotel, it’s because he’s comfortable. And if Jensen is playing off Jared’s energy, it’s because he, too, is comfortable.

Jared wasn’t heartbreakingly lonely before he met Jensen. His life wasn’t terrible, awful, or lacking love.

This life—with all of its chaotic ups and downs, obstacles, and challenges—makes Jared happy.

In just five months, he’ll be nineteen years old. The world will look vastly different on this birthday than the year before.

Shit has gone down—shit that he won’t forget for a long time. Not all of it has been resolved either, which puts him on edge if he dwells on it too long. He doesn’t have all the answers, and he can’t make everyone like or accept him. They still don’t have a clear idea of where they’re going to be while Jensen is on break in between filming. And Jared often feels like he’s floating adrift without much to go on but some experience in retail and his time at the train museum.

Despite all these things and plenty more concerns, Jared walks out of the Center holding Jensen’s hand feeling nothing but joy.

Their HIV tests came back negative.

And if that’s not reason enough to feel grateful, then Jared hasn’t learned a god damn thing.

Luckily, these days, he’s giving himself a little more credit.

 

Austin has always been a getaway destination for Jared.

He attended his first and only Willie Nelson concert here, when he was fourteen and knew enough to sneak past security. Before the start of every new school year, his momma would drive him out here to eat at whatever restaurant he wanted: a distinct change of pace from Smithville. The attitude is different in Austin than anywhere else in Texas. It was the blue dot in a sea of red that gave Jared reprieve from his life in Smithville. Discovering the Center was the first piece to a larger puzzle.

Austin is where he met Anza and the gang.

Confused and unsure of himself, he attended his first youth group at the Center. He found others with similar issues, concerns, and fears. With every meeting, he began to piece together a more solid sense of self—this sense of self that he’s still working on now.

In the parking lot of Fulmore Middle School, just off of Congress, Jared made out with a senior when he was still a sophomore.

Later that year, Jared had a date at Home Slice pizza. He ate two slices of pepperoni pizza, and an hour later, lost his virginity in the bed of an old Ford.

To Jared, the people of Austin have always been fascinating, lively, and uninterested in conformity.

For Jensen, Austin was a weekend destination for him and his friends in high school. He got rowdy on Sixth Street and drank in excess, much to the displeasure of his parents. Donna grounded him once after a weekend in Austin, not because he was drinking underage, but because she was worried he might get a beer gut. She was certain it would happen and it would ruin his modeling career.

Eventually, Jensen stopped visiting Austin.

He left for Los Angeles two years later and since then, Texas as a whole has been a stop along the way.

In his opinion, it was probably for the best. He liked the bars a little too much and his schoolwork not nearly enough. He did, however, get to experience the food trucks on South First Street. He once ate three funnel cakes in one sitting and didn’t even throw up.

Whatever it used to mean to each of them, Austin has changed.

New memories are in the making.

Their sleek, red convertible glides over an Austin legend: the Congress Avenue Bridge.

The Bridge is home to thousands of bats, beloved by all in Austin. The only way the bats could be more perfect would be if they all wore burnt orange and white Longhorn sweaters. Now, on the cusp of February to March, the bats are once again returning to the city. They’ll stay through the summer and a few weeks into fall.

Over seven hundred and fifty thousand bats call the Bridge home. They can be spotted from the bridge itself or from cruises on Lady Bird Lake—something Jared has always wanted to do.

Pressed against Jensen in the front seat, Jared makes small bat noises. The bridge comes and goes.

“This is how a happy bat sounds, Jen. Listen: eeeeeeeee eeeee eeee eee!”

Everyone in Austin loves the bats.

“This is how a sad bat sounds, Jen. Listen: eeee eeeeee eeeeeeeeee!”

Jensen thinks they’re creepy; Jared is determined to change that. They are not creepy. They are fuzzy, furry, little bundles of adorableness with wings… and possibly rabies. The bats should always be watched and mimicked from a safe distance.

“And this,” Jared murmurs, kissing Jensen’s cheek, “is how a mad bat sounds, Jen. Listen: eee eee eee!”

If Jared is a little weird, he fits right in.

Austin is weird.

Being from Austin is different than being from Texas.

At a stoplight on Fifth, an elderly couple honks and puts up their hands, Longhorn style. Jared teaches Jensen exactly what to say and how to say it; this is how you make instant friends in Austin.

From the passenger’s seat of the convertible, Jared raises his right hand. He hasn’t been able to sit still for more than two seconds since they left the Center. His shirt rides up as he stretches and takes a deep breath. In the cool, cerulean night, he hollers, “Hook ‘em Horns!”

Jared is in a damn good mood.

 “Hook ‘em Horns!” the elderly couple shouts back, rowdy and proud. They’re driving a convertible just as nice as Jensen’s rental, with a large bumper sticker on the back stating: Ready to Swing.

Jensen explains the meaning of the sticker to Jared.

The elderly couple speeds away fast enough that the tires squeal.

“Hey Mr. Longhorns,” Jensen laughs, turning onto Fifth. “We gettin’ close?”

“Super close. Just another block or two.”

 

The Austin skyline doesn’t have as much neon as Miami’s.

There are no mountains here, no grand view of the Pacific Ocean. But it’s seventy degrees and clear. Austin remains awake at nine o’clock in the evening on a Sunday, boisterous and loud. Lady Bird Lake and the Colorado River show off the bright lights of Austin like starlight in a rural sky.

There’s no fucking way Jared or Jensen will be going to sleep any time soon. They will not be leaving their hotel room for twelve hours, nor will they need to go to a club to dance pressed hip to hip. Jared’s new phone has excellent speakers. He made a Latin Dance playlist on an app shortly after his trip to Vancouver.

The convertible pulls into the drop-off lane of the brightly lit Hilton.

They’re a stone’s throw away from one of Jared’s favorite places: the Central Library. And they’re not too far from the Paramount Theater, the Austin Museum of Art, and the infamous Sixth Street scene. Jensen, however, isn’t focused on any of the landmarks or sights. He hardly sees the blue lights illuminating the hotel, doesn’t notice the stately floor to ceiling windows, and to hell with the marble and granite lobby.

Jensen’s hands find their way to Jared’s. His thumb swipes over the steady, unfaltering weight of Jared’s ring. He gives Jared’s hands a squeeze; Jared squeezes back.

They must look half crazy. Graciously, the valet gives them some space.

They probably look a little weird.

But Austin is weird.

Any and all distance between their lips closes. Jensen presses them together. This kiss is Miami heat, Vancouver calm, and Texan zing. It no less than takes Jared’s breath away.

There is no such thing as goodbye in Texas. So in theory—Jared mulls, his nose pressed against Jensen’s—there can be no endings.

This isn’t a final chapter.

There’s no reason to think of it that way. The next chapter is already in the works.

This is the sound a happy bat makes.

“Eee,” Jensen squeaks, laughing with his head tossed back.

They should probably move out of the drop-off lane. They should probably share this moment inside, in their waiting hotel room. And they should probably check to see if they have enough lube to last for the next twelve hours, because Jared doesn’t feel like sleeping.

It’s not that warm in Texas just yet, but it might as well be summer with the twang the filters out next.

“Three, two, one, I’m fixin’ to ask you somethin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” Jared kneels in his seat, seatbelt off, Jensen’s hands on his hips. “But I’m gonna ask you something too.”

Three, two, one… their questions are the same.

“Can we live here?”

 

Just a few seconds later, their answers are the same.

Nothing else matters in this moment—the moment they’ve found a home together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last actual chapter! Epilogue to follow, so don't go anywhere!
> 
> THANK YOU to everyone who has hung in there with me. <3 I never imagined this would get here. Thank you to everyone who helped beta and who listened to my ideas for where to go with this. We have a lot to look forward to in the next installment!


	62. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU!
> 
> House of Gold by Twenty-One Pilots.

The Out Youth Center Fund goes live on Twitter and Kickstarter on March 1st.

The creator of that fund alerts his online friends, asking them to retweet, reblog, and spread the word. He sets up links and a mission statement, and makes sure the Center’s 501(c)3 status is prominently displayed.

Across several media platforms, he carefully selects pictures of the Center and its facilities, with a few photos of exactly who the money will be helping. From Austin, Anza takes the pictures and faxes over the release forms. Memo fixes the photos on Photoshop, brightening them up and adding the Center’s logo on the corners. Charlie and Candy collect statements from youth, staff, and volunteers at the Center on Monday and early Tuesday; these are edited, streamlined, and posted underneath the mission statement on the Facebook page.

Five key tweets go out—in addition to three Facebook posts—as soon as the account is created. The official hashtag debuts: #OutYouthTX.

Accounts for Instagram, Snapchat, Tumblr, and Pinterest are in the works, but Jared has to step away for a while, despite his ambitions.

Jensen turns thirty-three years old at exactly 4:02 p.m.

Jared stands by with several kisses.

Of all the places in the world, Jensen Ackles celebrates his birthday in Smithville, Texas, a town with a population small enough for everyone to know everyone’s business. A week and a half ago, Jensen was in Paris, discussing fall fashion trends and his take on directing big-budget films versus indie productions.

Smithville is definitely not Paris.

It can’t even be good-naturedly called the Paris of central Texas.

Smithville is what it is—a small town with small minded people.

As the project gains momentum, Jared begins to say his goodbyes to the people in Smithville who treated him right.

He hopes that one day he can come back and start something new here.

For now, during Jensen’s birthday dinner, he’s content with the sight of the man himself on a lawn chair, drinking cheap beer and peeling the label off, laughing at a story Sherri tells about Jared as a baby. For once, Jared doesn’t stop his momma. The grass smells too sweet and the afternoon air is too fine for him to pay any mind. She can tell her story about him slapping the Santa Claus at the mall when he was six with gusto.

Just this once, he’ll let her have this without a sigh, a huff, or a roll of his eyes.

Out on the back patio, Sherri grills the four of them—Jensen, Jared, John, and herself—porterhouse steaks under John’s supposed supervision.

She serves her future son-in-law first and claps him on the back.

Jensen has eaten in some of the finest restaurants in the world. He’s had courses of decadent, sumptuous food brought to him on actual silver platters with no end in sight.

Two bites into his steak, Jensen declares that Sherri’s cooking—out of any cuisine in the world—takes the cake.

 

The railroad no longer runs through Smithville. Not much has changed on the streets of Smithville, not even the paint on most of the storefronts. The narrow minds in this town ate away at a man’s soul until he couldn’t take it no more. Ms. Archer’s words will always stick with Jared and remind him to be grateful.

What Jared has may not be perfect or without its bumps, but the people who came before him worked hard to make life what it is in the here and now. And sometimes, they gave up things that were priceless.

While Jared was in Dallas, The Flyer was razed.

He’s glad he didn’t see it torn down and paved over, only for some construction company to erect a steel sign declaring this spot the future site of a Whataburger.

George knew peace the moment he was free of Smithville, and Jared will never judge the choice he made. But now, Paul has peace too, and despite Jared’s immediate feelings about The Flyer, he won’t judge this choice either.

It is a good time to be alive.

After Jensen’s birthday dinner, Jared leads the birthday boy over to the back lawn. Barefoot and in shorts, they plop down and sprawl out, swimming in lush, soft grass. Jensen’s toes tap over Jared’s.

Moving out won’t be seamless or painless. For Jared, the first few nights away from his childhood home will present a challenge. That’s later. This is now.

From the patio, Jared hears John asking Sherri where the hell the c-a-n-d-l-e-s are.

A second later, not missing a beat, Sherri hollers back, “They can spell, you old coot. Look in the third cupboard on the left. No, Johnny, your other left. Good Lord, and they let you carry a firearm?”

“Take it up with my boss, ma’am. Though I did not hear you complaining when I took you out to the gun range Sunday.”

“I would file a complaint to your employer, but he’s a little indisposed at the moment.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s taking care of my son.”

Not a word between passes between Jared and Jensen, because no words are needed. Completely carefree, Jensen rolls over and wraps his arms around Jared, nosing his cheek, planting a kiss there just as sweet as the grass beneath them.

This is one of Jared’s last full nights in Smithville.

And it’s perfect.

 

Planning a music video requires three meetings over two days.

Filming it spans three, twelve-hour days.

Production for music videos is typically a hard and fast ordeal; their short turnaround requires an even faster touch. The budget for #OutYouthTX reaches ten thousand dollars, all of which goes towards paying for the studio space, film, and special effects. Costs are kept to a minimum by filming on a sound stage with green screens. Having only one filming location makes everything easier, cheaper, and less chaotic. Once the shooting schedule is in place, a few more specifics are hammered out. The cast, crew, and director of the video work for free thanks to Jensen’s connections.

For a minute, Jared panics over the remaining costs of the project. Special effects and the studio space cannot be discounted as heavily as anything else; but he can’t use the money raised to pay for those things. He’s about to offer to film the entire thing in his momma’s house with his phone when someone calls and saves the day.

Their production’s ten thousand dollar budget comes from a somewhat recognizable individual—maybe even a little bit famous.

The donor can be described as fondly attached to Jared. Whenever Jared speaks to him on the phone with updates about the project, there’s always a sense of… serenity.

This mysterious donor also retweets the original tweet once every day, and writes his own tweets using the hashtag #OutYouthTX. His one million followers take notice—including Neil Patrick Harris.

Fifteen million views later, the hashtag trends in the U.S. up until the premiere. Kickstarter has to fix their servers to accommodate the page. Jared has a meeting with the entire board from the Center to discuss the allocation of what he’s raised, which doesn’t come close to twenty-five thousand dollars.

It exceeds that.

Times ten.

 

The night before the premiere of the video, Jared makes dinner.

He cracks open a box of mac ‘n cheese and tosses the noodles into boiling water.

Fifteen minutes later, Jared scoops heaps of noodles onto two paper plates. They haven’t gotten around to buying pots or pans just yet. Or silverware. Or a bed frame. But these things can be forgiven and it won’t do much harm to sleep on the airbed a little while longer.

Tonight is the first night in their new house.

Little by little, it’s going to become a home.

“I used only the finest ingredients,” Jared announces, handing Jensen his plate. They’ve got a blanket spread out over the hardwood floor in the living room. “You’ll note, Mr. Ackles, that the cheese has been aged and the noodles were handmade by Italian grandmothers.”

The realtor Jensen hired came highly recommended from a few actors in the area. Lanita was kind, thoughtful, and respectful of Jensen’s request for privacy and security. She sat down with them twice before showing them anything, and explained the pros and cons of buying a home versus buying a condo. While Jensen is not a first-time homeowner, Jared is. She made it very clear what exactly they were getting into by signing both their names on the deed to any potential home.

She then showed them three places.

One place was eight thousand square feet and priced at what Lanita called, “a comfortable three point six million.” Although that property caused both Jared and Jensen to gape around in awe, it was passed over.

Too big.

They don’t need something so large right now.

The second place was six thousand square feet and negotiable at two and a half million.

Same problem.

Lanita vowed she would not give up on them.

The third and final condo she almost wasn’t going to show them. At three thousand square feet with only three beds and bathrooms, her concern was that there wasn’t _enough_ space. The price could be driven down, she was sure of it—negotiating from $2.3 to $1.75 million would be a cakewalk for her. And she mentioned that Jensen could afford much more at higher price points.

Ten minutes away from the Congress Street Bridge, this waterfront condo sits on the edge of the Colorado River. The backyard, while very small, leads directly onto a boardwalk. Although Lanita makes three thousand square feet sound cramped, Jared still can’t believe there’s so much _space_. The square footage stretches out over three floors and possesses what Lanita calls a panoramic view of the river. She showed them the balcony/back patio first.

Like anyone could turn down the Colorado.

“Excuse me, but where is my Evian?” Jensen asks, digging into the mac ‘n cheese. He slurps his first few forkfuls down until Jared makes a face that reminds him of his manners.

They may not have a table, but it’s a little gross to see yellow cheese smeared all over Jensen’s face. It’s worse when Jensen reaches over for a kiss.

“No!” Jared screeches. “No, no, no, Jen!”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“No, no, no!”

“Just one little…”

Not one square inch of this condo is taken for granted. Every board and nail is time and work that Jensen has put into his career—countless hours of hustling back and forth between auditions, waiting for callbacks, posing for hours while photographers barked at him to stop fidgeting, shuttling all over the world to smile and wave at the cost of a more grounded sense of self, and every single five a.m. set call.

The money that allows them to close on the condo that same day has been earned by a man who, at the end of a long day of hauling boxes inside, asks for boxed mac ‘n cheese.

The entryway to the condo is bordered by thick ferns and colorful gravel. Wrought iron curves over the door, while two lanterns sit on either side. Entering inside, the living room is first, providing a breathtaking, floor to ceiling view of the river.

Walnut floors contrast with cream colored walls and arches; the stairs are trimmed in more wrought iron and cherry wood. They dine on mac ‘n cheese in front of the fireplace, just a few scoots away from the windows. Further in, against an exposed brick wall, is the formal dining room. The entire condo was built using an open floor plan; Jensen wants to bring someone in to help them design a few rooms, place some furniture and ensure that they utilize their space.

Agents Tep and Wilson have been through here—to check on security of the new property and provide updates to their investigation. So far, things are quiet. Agent Tep relays that the radio silence is typical in this stage. She asks Jared if he still has her card—he does—and the agents leave.

Jared finds himself still questioning unknown numbers that ring through his phone. Every time he picks up, he holds his breath.

That trepidation may always be there.

Natural light filters into the entire condo, making it bright and airy from every vantage point. Skylights throughout allow blue skies to grace the hallways and kitchen.

In the kitchen, there is a mixture of more exposed brick, long white cabinets, marble, and granite. Every appliance has been updated and well-maintained. Using the stovetop to boil water was practically a religious experience. The refrigerator is a little intimidating, but Jensen managed to figure out how to store beer and chocolate inside.

Off of the living room is a private room for entertaining, something Lanita called a wet bar. The walls are painted a darker tan, and every piece of wood is black walnut. Three smaller windows afford the same view of the river. Jensen is the fondest of this room.

On the second floor of the condo are two guest bedrooms with their own bathrooms and another living room. Lanita suggested keeping one bedroom for guests and using the other as an office or a library. Taking a cue from her, Jensen has already declared the extra room Jared’s space. In turn, Jensen has called dibs on the wet bar.

Last but not least, the third floor opens up to a sitting room, with a large bay window. There is another fireplace and ample freedom to move around. The ceilings up here form a concave curve, amplifying the open floor plan and natural lighting.

There is so much more to this condo than Jared has been able to take in since they started to move in. The process has been expedited thanks to the Center project and Jensen’s upcoming trip to Las Vegas for a convention. An official move won’t start until a few days after the project wraps up, but it only leaves them a week together.

Two French doors open the master bedroom.

And there is the best view in the house—an elevated panoramic display of the Colorado and a Texan sky. Above them are two skylights, which bring in their own wash of crystal clear radiance.

For now, the condo is empty, and boxes are being stacked in the living room until they figure out what goes where. Jensen still needs to ship his things in from both Los Angeles and Miami. He’ll put the property in Los Angeles up for sale once a few things settle, and before he begins the new movie in June. The sale will become part of Jensen’s portfolio, something he aims to make _their_ portfolio.

Moving is tough work.

A lot goes into it that Jared hadn’t initially considered. They need to list a change of address, a trip to the DMV will be required soon enough, and utilities will need to be set up. Jensen plans to sit with Jared and show him how bills are paid and which accounts the money comes from. Most things, from Jared’s understanding, will be automated, but Jensen insists it’s good to know just in case.

However, that’s all in good time.

Tomorrow is the last day for editing the music video. In a few hours, they’ll release a final top tier gift for donors: a five minute Q&A filmed with Jared’s phone, with questions from online polls. Agent Tep and Wilson made sure to clear Jared’s new social media accounts.

One day at a time.

That’s all Jared can do.

And he can’t predict the future… well, not entirely.

“Jen, do you want more?”

“There’s more?”

“There’s a little left, yeah.”

“Yes, please, sweetheart.”

“Okay. But first…” Jared sets down his bowl and kneels in front of Jensen, who is sprawled out on his side. They’re both in undershirts and jeans, barefoot and comfortable.

Green eyes look at Jared, piqued with curiosity.

A smile muscles its way past Jared’s determination to remain serious.

There’s Jensen, stretched out and wonderful, waiting to hear what Jared has to say.

Something tells Jared it’s going to be like that always.

From his back pocket, Jared slips out the fortune teller Anza gave him earlier this year. He’s kept it for this moment, though he didn’t know it then. Unfolding it with care, Jared smoothes out each corner and tilts it towards Jensen.

“Ask it, ‘Is Jared gonna tell me good news?’”

Interest piqued, Jensen faithfully asks, “Is Jay gonna tell me good news?”

“Now,” Jared murmurs, “pick a color.”

“Mm… blue.”

“B-L-U-E. Pick a number.”

“…four.”

“One, two, three, four. Pick another number.”

“Hmm. Three.”

“One, two, three. Okay. Ready for your answer?”

A mantle sits above the fireplace in the living room. Jared has one more birthday present, one that Jensen can frame and place there.

Jared flips up the flap for the number three, holding the fortune teller close to him. It is the sweetest thing when Jensen leans forward, eyebrows raised, biting his lip.

The condo is silent.

Second helpings of mac ‘n cheese are temporarily forgotten.

Simultaneously, Jared tells Jensen his fortune and hands him another piece of paper.

“Yes.”

There’s a dog park, several libraries, and the state Capitol ten minutes away from their home.

Oh, and Austin Community College.

Summer classes begin June first. Jared had his high school transcripts sent over and his AP credit applied. In two semesters at ACC, he’ll be able to transfer to UT-Austin.

“I was thinking Social Work,” Jared says, clasping his hands over Jensen’s, his schedule for summer between them. “With a minor in photography.”

Completely speechless, Jensen reads every word.

After a minute of solid silence, Jared starts to get nervous. He squeezes Jensen’s hands.

“Jen? Jen, say something. I put down everything in my savings for next semester. I missed the deadlines for scholarships, but I can find something part-time to do and keep saving. But Jen, say _something_.”

“…”

“I… I wanna make you proud. The same way you make me.”

Jared can’t predict the future, but he doesn’t have to—Anza has taken care of that for him. She wrote “yes” underneath every single flap.

Jensen never lets go of Jared’s schedule. He launches himself forward and snatches Jared up in the tightest, most rib-crushing embrace they have yet experienced.

Texas rushes out, filled with love, on the brink of tears.

“You already do, sweetheart.”

 

The Out Youth Center in Austin, Texas receives three hundred thousand dollars from its #OutYouthTX crowd sourcing fund. Over sixty thousand people contributed financially, with many more supporting the Center by spreading the word.

Jensen personally matches twenty-five percent of the final total contributions.

On March 14th, at midnight, one two-minute and forty-three second video releases onto the OutYouthTX YouTube account.

A ukulele strumming opens the video. The first shot is a close up of distinctive green eyes.

The camera zooms out to reveal Jensen lying down in a sunny field of lush green grass, holding and playing a ukulele. He starts to sing the first few lines, accompanied only by his strumming. Inch by inch, more of his outfit can be seen—light green skinny jeans, bright blue Chucks, a pink shirt, purple scarf, and a neon green beanie. It’s all topped off with a pair of fake black glasses.

“She asked me son, ‘When I grow old, will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, will you take care of me?’”

Another ukulele joins in. Jensen looks over and sits up, still playing. The background is an enormous, spacious park, where balloons of all colors float on the horizon.

Searching for the other ukulele, Jensen continues singing, “I will make you Queen of everything you see. I’ll put you on the map.” He gets up, the camera cuts to his Chucks on the grass. “I’ll cure you of disease.”

Drums join in. Jensen’s sneakers pound on the grass to the beat.

His voice rises clear and steady. The camera slides up the length of him, following him through the field, deeper into the colors provided by the balloons. Both ukuleles strum faster.

“The day we up and left this town, it turned our future upside down. We’ll make pretend that you and me, lived ever after happily.”

Jensen runs up to the outside of a studio sound stage. He kicks the closed doors, adjusts his scarf, shakes his head, and smiles. Confident, he sings louder. “She asked me son, ‘When I grow old, will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, will you take care of me?’”

Dancing in circles, Jensen continues.

“I will make you Queen of everything you see. I’ll put you on the map, I’ll cure you of disease.” The beat picks up. Jensen’s voice grows with intensity, getting an edge. “Oooh, and since we know that dreams are dead, and life turns plans up on their head, I will plan to be a bum so I just might become someone!”

The doors to the sound stage swing open.

A red carpet unfurls, winding down, down, down.

On either side of the carpet is a working sound stage, with cameras and boom mics and equipment moving along to the rhythm of the song. Hundreds of balloons rise up, adding splashes of color all around. Every machine is manned by youth who have utilized the services at the Center. Sherri and Anza wave, holding up mics and balloons.

At first, Jensen looks very small.

For a second, he takes the whole scene in, clinging to his ukulele, perpetually playing.

A cheerful roar sounds out from the set. Jensen laughs and starts running forward.

Louder and louder, Jensen’s voice carries him, swift and strong. “She asked me son, “When I grow old, will you buy me a house of gold? And when your father turns to stone, will you take care of me?’”

Closer to the end of the red carpet, Jensen’s feet begin to rise up. Lifted, he runs on thin air, strumming without pause. The drums beat to a climax and abruptly stop. Jensen’s Chucks skid to a stop at the top of a scaffold overlooking the sound stage.

Jared sits there, perched, dressed in dark jeans and a red-checkered shirt, complete with bow-tie, cap, and suspenders. Plus, he has on an identical pair of Chucks. He holds in his arms the second ukulele.

They both strum softer, looking right at each other.

Jensen sings the last few, quiet lines, crinkles around his eyes.

He sits down on the scaffold and nudges his foot against Jared’s.

“I will make you Queen of everything you see. I’ll put you on the map. I’ll cure you of disease.”

Jared nudges back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Oh my god! Another fic DONE. I could not have done this without the support of readers like yourselves. <3 Thanks for your patience, your suggestions, and your kindness. 
> 
> I'm really REALLY happy with how this wrapped up. and i'm so proud of both the boys in this verse. Jared has really come a long way. And I'm so excited to let y'all know this is not the end! A third installment is on its way. <3
> 
> The art is thanks to the ever wonderful Kamidiox, and the background + text is credit to M. Thank you! Leave Kami some love at her tumblr: kamidiox.tumblr.com. The song is House of Gold as sung by Twenty One Pilots. 
> 
> Thank you again for hanging in there with me, Jared, Jensen, and everyone else in this lovely verse. Wedding bells are in the next installment! And tuxes!

**Author's Note:**

> (ps. inspiration for the things jared's wearing here: (nsfw) https://xdress.com/product/view/frilly-garter-panty-x2990 )


End file.
